Andromeda Black: Reluctant Blood Traitor
by the iz
Summary: Andromeda Black is a sixth-year prefect. She has a wealthy family, a good reputation and her name is definitely NOT Dromeda. Who's Ted Tonks, over-achieving mudblood, to think he has any place in her life? Multi-chapter. Canon as can be. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! OK, so this is not a completed fic and although I have a lot of it already written, it's a work in progress. As such, I will be updating fairly slowly. I'm not expecting much interest in this as it's an in-depth and horribly slow moving story – I apologise, but that's just how it came out and after all, I'm doing this for my own enjoyment – but be warned that I won't be hurried on this. Right, got that out of the way!_

_Thanks so much for the lovely (if limited) response to my first fic, 'Getting Together'. This one's a bit different but to those who have me on author alert and such: I hope you like it! Let me know._

_I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THIS. I AM MAKING NO MONEY. SUING ME WOULD JUST BE SILLY._

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I nod absently as Bella prattles on next to me, barely hearing her enthusiastic voice describing the latest actions of the 'revolutionary new group of wizards' she's become obsessed with. At the beginning of the summer when she first started talking about them, I was frightened by the fanaticism evident in her voice. Now I'm just bored. Trying to tune her out, I listen instead to the thrum of the Hogwarts Express as it barrels along the tracks.

At least she hasn't really tried recruiting me. I'm not sure if I could explain my lack of interest in the blood purity issue without Bella overreacting – as usual – and denouncing me as a blood traitor. I'm not a muggle sympathiser, of course. Purebloods are superior to other wizards and Hogwarts would be better off without muggle-borns - I know this, my parents have taught it to me since birth and who am I to question the facts? But surely we don't have to hurt them, punish them. Surely we could just stop letting them into Hogwarts and forget about them, instead of 'making examples of them'. It seems obvious to me, but then I've always been the pacifist out of us three sisters.

I glance opposite me at my other sister. At just thirteen, she's already a prim and pretty young woman who is obsessed with the idea of becoming the perfect, feminine and powerful matriarch of her very own pureblood breeding program. I snort to myself. Much as I love Narcissa, I can't understand her. She was such a sweet, if demanding child, but she's becoming colder and more ambitious as the years go by. I have to admire her single-mindedness, though; I have no real aspirations even now, at sixteen, and just try to be an all-round good student to make up for my lack of direction or strength of character. At least I got the Prefect badge last year. My parents expressed something resembling interest in me when I told them, which was a nice change.

Sighing, I brush a chestnut brown curl off my cheek and stand up, knowing I have to be at the Prefect meeting on the train. Bella stops mid-sentence to give me a questioning look, her shadowed, gleaming eyes piercing as always. They unsettle me a little, which is stupid as I know we have the same heavy lids and slanted almond shape, but I like to think that the light cinnamon hue of mine are less… creepy than her deep black gaze. I'm amused to see her long-suffering boyfriend, Rodolphus, watching her every move with obvious infatuation. Pointing to my Prefect badge in explanation, I hurry out of the carriage, hearing Bella resume her tirade about 'muggle filth'.

I feel free and more relaxed as I wind my way up the rattling corridor of the Express. I ignore the prickling of guilt that I should feel that way because I'm not with my family. I'm determined to enjoy this school year, to try and work out who I am… apart from the dull and frigid sister of Bella and Cissy, of course. Boys have been approaching me hopefully since fourth year but I've always been convinced they're only interested in my name, or perhaps my resemblance to Bella, who exudes sensuality and is the ultimate pin-up girl for most of the Slytherin boys. My bookishness and lack of confidence, though, seems to be an immediate turn-off for these would-be wooers - not that I'm complaining, because they always seem so slimy and insincere. This year however, I know that I'll have to start expressing interest in the boys in my common room; or else, as Bella so succinctly puts it, 'all the good ones will be gone'. I've been told by Cissy that Mother will be beyond furious if I've not attracted some kind of romantic interest - from a pureblood suitor, of course - before the huge Spring Ball held by the Malfoys in March. I have to live up to my family's expectations (or at least try) so I'm going to come out of my shell this year, start being more opinionated and flirtatious.

I almost walk past the door to the compartment where the Prefect meeting is being held, so I'm blushing slightly as I duck in. Fletcher Parkinson, an overly confident pureblood fifth-year who has evidently been made one of the new Slytherin Prefects, smirks at me as I stop near him to search for a seat. The meeting hasn't started yet but everyone's here and it's a bit crowded.

"Andromeda… looking good this year."

I get this a lot. It has nothing to do with being attracted to me; he's only teasing 'the mouse', as they call me. I'm about to mumble something then scurry off when I remember my conviction in the corridor. Visualising all the times I've seen Bella tease a boy who's flirting with her, I put my hand on my hip and grin at him, giggling slightly and tucking that stray curl from my bun behind one ear.

"Thanks, Fletcher. Are you taller? I'm sure you are."

The change is incredible. Looking confused, Fletcher just stares at me for a moment before he visibly gathers himself and leans forward, showing a more genuine interest.

"Maybe I am. So you're a prefect too, huh? I totally forgot that. I hope we get patrols together, I could use someone… interesting, to talk to." I want to roll my eyes but instead I giggle again, tossing my head as I saunter off to a spare seat near the window.

"Maybe we will." I shoot back over my shoulder.

I sit down, aware that Fletcher is still staring at me. Leaning back so the person next to me blocks his view, I give in to the urge and roll my eyes, stretching out my toes in front of me. I don't really enjoy manipulating boys but it's so easy to do if I try. Pathetic.

Shaking my head as I look up, I catch my breath as I meet eyes the colour of melted dark chocolate, crinkled up in amusement.

The eyes belong to a guy opposite me. He looks older but I vaguely recall him from Transfiguration so he has to be in my year, which is confusing considering I can't remember him from meetings last year and I thought I knew all my fellow Prefects. He's a Hufflepuff but I can't recall his name or blood status. I have to admit he's good-looking; tall and broad, with a friendly, chiselled face and a tousled mop of bright golden hair. I wish for a moment that he was in Slytherin because, well, I wouldn't mind flirting with this one… but I dismiss the idea because he's a Hufflepuff, after all. In my house, anyone who dates one of those is sniffed at, pureblood or not. I'm about to look away, aware that I'm beginning to flush from his continued perusal of my face, when he winks at me. I raise my eyebrows coolly, surprised at his forwardness. Thankfully, the sudden hushing sound from the front of the compartment gives me an excuse to look away, though I can still see his shining hair in my peripheral vision.

"Ahem… hi, I'm Amy Turnpott from Hufflepuff and this is Lucas Davies from Ravenclaw. We're your Heads for this year and we'd love for anyone with any problems or questions to come see us, yeah?" Amy looks around with a dazzling smile which doesn't falter when no one responds. Her blonde hair is tied up in a high ponytail with a hot pink ribbon and she's wearing a diamante pendant in the shape of an 'A'. I immediately know that she's one of these irrepressible types – typical Hufflepuff - and I don't know whether to be annoyed or admiring of her optimism. Lucas Davies stands behind her looking bored, smoothing back his slick hairdo with one hand, and I decide I don't like him. Amy goes on: "Right! Well, we've got a new bunch of fifth-year prefects this year so I'd like to welcome you lot..." there's a smattering of applause and I join in, remembering the nervousness that gripped me as a new Prefect "… and one new Sixth-year! Ted Tonks will be taking over this year as one of the sixth-year Hufflepuff Prefects as Dominic Llewellyn has relocated to America. Welcome Ted!" She points towards the blonde boy opposite me and I smile triumphantly; I knew he hadn't been with us last year. He beams around the compartment before his gaze flickers to me again; I wipe the smile off my face and turn steadfastly back towards Amy.

"OK, so there's a new system this year. Instead of just letting you guys form patrol pairs, Dumbledore has decided on creating more variety in our groupings to encourage goodwill and get rid of hostility and such, in order to set a good example to the rest of the school. So you'll be divided into groups of six. In each group there will be a female seventh-year, sixth-year and fifth-year as well as a male seventh-year, sixth-year and fifth-year. All pairings will be male-female. Group members will be from a mixture of different houses and you'll rotate pairings throughout the year."

There's an immediate indignant outburst, particularly from the sixth- and seventh-years. I don't join in the yelling but twist my mouth into a grimace, wishing I could pick my own patrol partners. Shrugging slightly, I sit back in my seat and wait for the commotion to die down. I can only hope that I'll be paired with decent people. Hopefully no muggle-borns, as they always make me feel conflicted: I've been raised to treat them with hostility but this wars with my dislike of unprovoked rudeness. Mostly I avoid them.

Finally Davies, with an unexpected booming voice, shouts for everyone to shut up then lapses back into looking cool – idiot - while a slightly flustered Amy begins handing out group rosters. I lean forward to accept mine and impatiently unfold the parchment. Scanning it, I scold myself for the slight somersault my stomach does as I see the name 'Ted Tonks'. I snap my head up to look at him, quickly frowning when I see him watching me as if in consideration, his own roster opened in one hand. Staring again at the parchment, I note with disinterest that Fabian Prewett and Daisy Golding are the seventh-years whilst Fletcher Parkinson and Marlene Jones are the fifth-years. I'm biting my lip in inexplicable worry as I stand to leave the compartment with everyone else, only to come to an abrupt halt as a figure looms in front of me. It's Ted Tonks.

"Yes?" I enquire politely, folding my arms. He looks slightly puzzled as he sticks out one large hand.

"I'm Ted and I understand we'll be patrolling together sometimes? Just thought I'd introduce myself now as I know we've never really gotten to know each other…"

"Great," I interrupt him. "It's nice to meet you. Thanks." I don't look at his hand as I force a thin-lipped smile. For some reason, despite his open demeanour, this guy disconcerts me and I don't like that. He looks slightly hurt and I shift in the uncomfortable pause. Without warning, Fletcher Parkinson appears beside me. He sneers at Ted.

"What are you trying to achieve, mudblood? Andromeda doesn't need you sniffing around her."

Ted glares at Fletcher, seeming much more menacing as he draws up to his full height which has to be a bit over six feet. I battle down the dismay I feel as Fletcher reveals his blood status. Ted may make me nervous and jittery but I don't want to be mean to him. Now, if my plans for garnering some respect and attention are to succeed, I have to show some scorn towards muggle-borns. Ignoring Ted, I turn and give Fletcher a brittle smile.

"Come on, Fletcher, you can walk me back to my compartment to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Sweeping past Ted without looking at his face, I hear Fletcher hurrying after me. I slow down reluctantly in the corridor as the younger boy catches up to me.

"The nerve of some of these mudbloods! What did he want?"

I find Fletcher's nosiness irritating but, remembering he's part of the 'in' crowd, reply without my usual evasiveness.

"He's part of our Prefect group, thought I might like to be introduced to him." I try to make it clear from my tone of voice how little I would want to be introduced to a muggle-born. Merlin, I'm getting sick of this already… Fletcher makes a sound of disgust and starts complaining about the idiocy of the new system. I produce noises of agreement until we reached my family's compartment, then stop, gather myself and grin coyly again at Fletcher, thanking him for walking me as I twirl a ringlet around my finger.

"No problem. I'm _very _glad we'll be patrolling together."

He leans against the wall, leering at me, and then suddenly reaches out to take my hand. I try to keep the smile in place as he brushes his lips against it and then stares into my eyes with an arrogant curve to his mouth.

"You've changed, Andromeda." he says. I shrug and give an airy laugh as he leans closer and says in what he probably thinks is a sexy growl: "It's definitely for the better."

With that, he turns and struts off. Poor Fletcher; obviously thinks he's a ladies man. I push open the compartment door, trying not to dwell on how harsh I was to Ted Tonks. I firmly stamp down my regret. He doesn't matter, he's just some cocky muggle-born who shouldn't have even approached me. Nodding to myself, I sit down before I realise both my sisters and Rodolphus are staring at me.

"Were you _flirting_ with Fletcher Parkinson?" Cissy finally says in a tone of disbelief. I cross my legs and smooth my hair back, smirking.

Time for the new Andromeda Black to introduce herself.


	2. Chapter 2

_YES! Got into the uni course I wanted! Awesomeness…_

_Anyway, here's part two for that one reviewer! Enjoy! _

_All belongs to Jo Rowling._

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For the first week I only have one shift and thankfully, that's with Fabian, on the second night. Evidently no one's ready to start sneaking around yet, because the patrol is completely uneventful. I spend that first week in a flurry of faces as people begin to take an interest in my new persona. I chat, I laugh, I flirt and, slightly uncomfortable though it still makes me, I mock muggle-borns. There are a couple in Slytherin; they're treated fairly well to their faces but once they leave the room everyone sneers at their fashion sense, their grades, the things they say or the people they fancy. I always try to be extra courteous to these people when I see them, as if to make up for the way I now speak about them behind their back. All the eligible young men seem caught up in this 'Knights of Walpurgis' group that's forming outside of Hogwarts; I don't know much about it but I do know it's anti-muggle in a big way. I have no desire to get involved, but I act interested when the rest of them enthuse about it and agree that this Lord Voldemort man is a hero in the making, although I privately think he sounds dangerously unstable more than anything.

I begin talking to the Slytherins I sit with in class more. In Muggle Studies, which a group in my year joined for the express purpose of whispering mockeries about muggles throughout the class, I stop listening attentively and instead giggle at the back of the classroom along with the rest of them. They don't question why I joined the class, for which I'm grateful as I have no idea myself; perhaps it was a subconscious act of rebellion against my parents.

Ted Tonks unnerves me. I've never really noticed him in class before – after all, I only had him in Transfiguration last year – but now he's in my Charms, Muggle Studies and DADA classes. I wonder why he did Muggle Studies if he's muggle-born then immediately dismiss it as being below my notice. I'm apparently not below his notice, however. I lose count – not that I've been counting – of the number of times I catch him staring at me in class, eyes darting away as soon as I meet them. He has a habit of tapping his foot against his chair leg and I know when he's looking at me, because it slows and stops. This is incredibly annoying, mostly because I have to concentrate on not looking across at him, which always results in me losing track of the lesson or, in Muggle Studies, the conversation I'm involved in.

The second week, I pull out my roster on Monday morning, knowing it's enchanted to change to show that week's patrol details. I lie in my bed, listening to the other girls get changed around me, not wanting to open the parchment and scolding myself for being such a coward. But I'm no Gryffindor. It's not until I've gotten changed, brushed my teeth and hair and applied the lip gloss which I've been urged to wear by my new flock of girlfriends, that I finally sit back down on my bed in the now empty dorm and miserably unfold the parchment. Scowling, I see that I have a shift with Ted tonight as well as a night patrol with Fletcher on Wednesday. Much as I'm training myself to hate muggle-borns, when I think of Fletcher's many advances on me in the common room I have to admit I'm looking forward to both my shifts with equal distaste. Lying back on my bed, I fervently wish that all my Prefect duties were with Fabian, who obviously doesn't like Slytherins on principle and so works with me in moody silence. Being with Fabian is like being alone and it's mercifully relaxing to not have to put up a front all the time.

It's a bit late to go to breakfast so I wander up to double Charms, revising the set of synchronised Hover charms we learned yesterday and thanking Merlin that I have a natural ability for the subject because Louisa Crabbe, who sits next to me, is hopeless and helping her out is an excellent way to score brownie points with the Slytherin 'it' girls. I'm chuckling to myself over poor Louisa's conviction that the fly zooming past us had been a result of her spell work as I round the corner… and stop dead as a cheerful male voice addresses me.

"Morning, Andromeda. Early, are we?"

I clutch my books to my chest, furiously trying not to blush as I see Ted leaning against the wall next to our classroom door. I do not make eye contact as I stalk up to him and stand about five feet away.

"Tonks," I greet him acidly.

"Call me Ted."

His voice is so friendly that I immediately feel stupid. I've always thought the idea of actively hating somebody just because of their heritage is a bit ignorant. The only reason I've ever been rude to a muggle-born is because other Slytherins were nearby and I would have been asking for trouble by giving a polite response to a 'mudblood'. But Ted and I are alone here, so why shouldn't I be civil?

"Ted then." I raise my eyes and survey him unsmilingly. He hasn't shaved and I ignore the fact that I've always found stubble sexy as hell. Muggle-borns and sexy do not go together. Not at all. "Why so early?"

Ted beams at me and unfolds his arms from across his burly chest, shoving them in his pockets instead. His tie is barely done up and his hair's all rumpled. Wanting to remain guarded, I heft my books up to under my chin and stay stiffly upright as he lounges against the wall.

"Well, Andy-"

"Andromeda!" I instruct with narrowed eyes. He smiles crookedly, looking at me from under his light brown lashes. I only raise my eyebrows in an unimpressed sort of way.

"OK, Dromeda." He cuts across my protest with a louder voice. "I've been practising and I realised that I'd mostly missed breakfast, so I came down here to wait. You?"

"Practising?"

"Yeah, I play electric guitar. Learning a new song. It's by Jimi Hendrix, who is my current favourite artist-"

"Ekletricity doesn't work here, though!" I say, surprised enough to drop my stiff tone of voice.

"Electricity. And I know, but I twiddled around and found a way to run it on magic in third year. Thank Merlin I already knew a muting spell or I would have driven the boys crazy," he laughs. I stare, surprised. That's advanced magic he's describing, for a third-year anyway. I wouldn't have been able to work that out at thirteen. I feel suddenly insulted; muggle-borns are supposed to have inferior magic yet here's Ted bloody Tonks, dragging his muggle crap into Hogwarts and making me feel like I'm the inferior one. Sniffing disdainfully, I turn around and face the opposite window instead of talking to him any further. I have the feeling he's about to say something and so I'm relieved when Flitwick comes bustling around the corner. He's only been teaching here since the year before I arrived but he's already rumoured to be named the next Head of Ravenclaw when Professor Lumina retires next year. He's one of my favourite teachers, probably because I love his subject so much.

"Mr Tonks, Miss Black!" he squeaks as he trots past us. "Both early, I see? Unless you were canoodling, hmmm?"

I almost choke as I splutter a denial but Ted winks at Flitwick good-naturedly.

"You know me too well, Professor."

The tiny wizard chuckles, waving his wand to unlock the classroom and darting inside. We both follow.

"Fix your tie, young man… always knew you had an eye for Miss Black, Mr Tonks. Intuition, you know!"

I roll my eyes but I'm surprised to see Ted blushing a little as he redoes his tie. He turns to me and opens his mouth as if to make a comment but is cut off by a snide voice behind me.

"Stop hassling my friends, Tonks. You never did know your place." Louisa grabs my wrist and marches towards the back of the classroom, tossing her chin-length, silky black bob. I only catch a glimpse of Ted's indignant face before I lower my eyes. As we sit down, Louisa begins chattering about something she's read in _Witch Weekly _to do with Chad Monaghan, the womanising Quidditch player who seems to be flaunting his sleek hair and smouldering gaze from the pages of every gossip magazine in sight. Cissy has a poster of him on the inside of her trunk. I think he's despicable. And too clean-shaven.

I refuse to feel bad about Louisa putting Ted down. It's his fault for carrying on a conversation with me. He just can't take a hint. Glaring at him where he sits laughing with Rhonda Jeffries, who's a bit of a tart, I always thought, I simmer as I think of his stupid advanced magical abilities. I'm the pureblood! I'm better at Charms than him, I'm sure of it. As if to prove it to myself, I cast a synchronised Hover charm on the pebbles set in front of me. They rise up into the air at once and begin moving in a slow circle level with my eyes. Louisa makes an irritated sound as she jabs her wand at her pile of pebbles. About half of them soar sideways while the rest just sort of rattle on her desk.

"Better!" I tell her. "Concentrate and be gentler with your arm movement."

I glance back down at Ted as I speak. He's still talking to Jeffries but is lazily flicking his pebbles in an arc over his desk, as if they're being juggled by an invisible set of arms. I grind my teeth together and gather my shoulder-length fall of heavy, springy brown hair into a messy ponytail to concentrate. Raising my wand, I make a purposeful sweeping movement in the air above the pebbles then drag it upwards. The pebbles align perfectly and hover in the air above my head. I hold my concentration and mutter '_Geminio_'; the line of pebbles becomes two parallel lines hovering above me. Flitwick nearby has ceased talking to the student in front of him to observe me with interest. Closing my eyes and working on instinct, I begin to trace my wand through the air below the pebbles, working to a pattern and repeating it a few times. I hear Flitwick give a little squeal and, opening my eyes, I grin to see my pebbles performing a complex dance through the air around the classroom, weaving around each other and forming a helix shape which rotates and undulates like some disjointed serpent. Feeling a little smug at my undeniably brilliant Charms work, I let my eyes dart down to Ted. He meets my gaze, smirks then turns back to his desk and begins twirling his wand over his own pile of pebbles – which he's also duplicated – with his head bent low.

I lean forward, keeping my wand moving in the air to maintain my enchanted pebbles, and then scowl as his collection of stones suddenly spirals gracefully into the air, forming a tapering whirlpool. It sails towards my snake and begins to engulf it, inexorably destroying my hard work. I snort; there is no way he'll beat me at this. The whole class has stopped work to watch as I angrily flick my wand upwards then twist my arm around suddenly, forcing my pebbles to wrench out of Ted's whirlpool formation and form a tight but hollow sphere. Flitwick mutters 'oh, well done!' but I'm watching Ted warily. He's leaned breezily backwards in his chair and now glances over his shoulder at me, looking amused. He brings his wand in a small arc in front of him, causing his whirlpool to abruptly flip over; he then flourishes it so that the whirlpool tightens into a solid cone… an arrowhead. I anticipate his move and hastily swish my pebbles sideways as his missile shoots up towards them. Louisa giggles.

"Come on, Dromeda!" she whispers in encouragement, but the nickname causes me to start, shattering my sphere. I squeak and spiral my wand frantically in the air, using a strange silent combination of _Aresto Momentum _and the Hover charm to send my pebbles back into the air and arrange them in a simple ring around Ted's arrowhead. Thinking fast, I whip my wand in a tight circle, watching as my pebbles blur in their orbit around the arrowhead. With a grim smile and a sideways flick, I slice through the arrowhead and watch as half of Ted's pebbles fall to the floor. He turns to look at me but Flitwick chooses that moment to hurry down the centre of the classroom, waving his wand to return both mine and Teds' pebbles.

"Excellent, excellent!" he cries as he reaches his desk. "Twenty points to both Slytherin and Hufflepuff for brilliant demonstration of the advanced synchronised Hover charm! Miss Black and Mr Tonks, could you both please stay back after class? Right. Now class, the key to a nice smooth Hover is steadiness in the wrist…"

I slump back in my chair as Louisa begins praising me for 'showing the mudblood his place'. I've never gotten so showy or competitive before. Biting my lip again, I glance down at Ted where he's holding Jeffries' wrist to help her get the right motion for the spell, as she appears to be having trouble. I snort; I saw her master it last lesson, when Ted was sitting with a boy further up the desks. Lying bint.

It gets to the end of the double and I wave Louisa off as I gather my books and make my way to the front desk, where Ted is sitting on the edge chatting to Flitwick about the weather. Impatient to leave and forget this stupid lesson, I tap my foot until Flitwick seems to notice me and claps his little hands together.

"Miss Tonks!"

"Black, sir." I correct through gritted teeth.

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry. Anyway, Miss Black, that was some marvellous Charms work you displayed today! Simply marvellous."

I brighten and give him a genuine smile, before catching Ted's eye and frowning at him. My frown deepens at Flitwick's next words.

"In this year, you are matched only by Mr Tonks here in raw talent. Which is why I think you two should do Charms Extension!"

"_What?_" I splutter, at the same time as Ted says: "Cool!"

Flitwick continues happily. "It would be my pleasure to tutor you two after dinner, say, twice a week? Plus on weekends, of course. We would be studying very advanced Charms work, NEWT level, and you would be completing your Charms NEWT at the end of this year instead of next. This, of course, would free you up more next year to study for your other subjects. What do you say?"

Ted's nodding enthusiastically as I try to find the words to decline politely. It sounds like a great plan, except for the whole Ted Tonks thing. But then, as Flitwick is babbling on about the kinds of Charms practised at NEWT level, Ted leans uncomfortably close and breathes: "Afraid you can't handle it, Miss Black?"

I barely control the quiver that runs down my spine and that annoys me no end. Glaring at him, I step forward and hear myself say the words:

"Professor, when do we start?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Yay, third chapter for my few readers! I'll be the first to admit that this one's not my best, but there are only so many times a girl can re-edit. And bear in mind that we're still in the character development stage. The next chapter's better, I promise, as there's a bit more between Dromeda and Ted, although I warn you that it will take them aaaaaages to get together. Hell, I haven't even written them getting together yet._

_As well as being one of my least favorites, this chapter is considerably shorter than the rest, although the first two were quite long - for me - anyway. That's because this one's a bit of a filler, I guess. I'm sorry! _

_So yeah, um, enjoy this chapter that I've probably put you off of reading now... and which writes about a setting, characters etc that belong COMPLETELY to Jo Rowling. As opposed to me. Whom they do not belong to. At all._

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I toss my hair impatiently as I wait in the Entrance Hall for Ted to turn up for Prefect duty. _Git_, I think mutinously as I check my watch and see that he's now three minutes late. Logically, I know it isn't his fault that I arrived ten minutes early, but I ignore that.

I jump and gasp as a voice at my ear murmurs: "Looking good tonight, Andromeda."

Whirling around, I find myself nose-to-nose with Ted. I step back hastily and sneer at him, fisting my hands to stop them from shaking. He smells like spiced apples.

"Don't even try it, Tonks."

He puts on a hurt face, all brown eyes. "Aw, Dromeda, I thought I asked you to call me Ted. Or even Teddy Bear?"

A smile escapes me before I can stop it and I press my lips together, looking away. I can't start joking around with him. He's a bloody muggle-born, and I have to start acting like it! I glance back at him to see him grinning, before he abruptly sobers up and continues.

"Besides, it worked for that snotty little prat, Parkinson. Thought I'd try out his smooth moves."

He winks at me but I keep my face expressionless. "Don't insult my friends."

"Friends? Looked a lot like he wanted more-"

"We've got rounds to do." I cut across. Turning, I pull out my wand and stride away. There's a beat of silence before I hear him sigh and trudge after me. We walk briskly for a good fifteen minutes before he speaks again, in a low voice.

"Did you hear that?"

I stop and listen. For a second I focus on his steady breathing before I shake myself and close my eyes to block out his expectant face. Then I hear murmuring and the rustling of clothes from a classroom ahead. I open my eyes, give a triumphant smile and watch an identical grin spread across Ted's mobile features.

"Gotcha!" he whispers and begins to creep forward. I cast a muffling charm on the floor ahead of us to block our footsteps then follow him. We reach the door, pause, and then Ted swiftly opens it and points his wand inside, muttering '_lumos_'. I copy him and step into the room, sweeping my wand light across the tangled couple who've just toppled off a desk in front of us.

"Ah-ha!" says Ted exultantly as the boy jumps to his feet. Ted freezes instantly.

It's Fletcher Parkinson, dusting his robes off coolly and not bothering to help the extremely embarrassed girl with him – either fourth or fifth year by the looks of her - to her feet. He opens his mouth, probably to insult Ted, but his gaze falls on me and he abruptly shuts it and then opens it again looking panicked.

"Andromeda! I… uh, this is a lot worse than it looks. She's a total slut, pulled me in here; I was trying to get her off me when you came in…"

I'm mildly amused at his idiocy in thinking I would care, as well as outraged at his treatment of the poor girl, who's staring at Fletcher in disbelief. I open my mouth to tell him how little his love life bothers me but I'm struck dumb when Ted steps up to him instead, looking unusually aggressive.

"Apologise, to both of these ladies." He growls. Fletcher gulps but retains his old training.

"Don't threaten me, filthy mudblood. You're not fit to-"

Ted grabs Fletcher by the collar, hauling him to his tiptoes and making the younger boy gasp for breath.

"I said, apologise!"

"Ted!" I find my voice. "Put him down."

Ted doesn't move.

"Please?" I say more gently. Ted glances back at me and it strikes me – quite absurdly considering the situation – that Ted must be pretty strong to support most of Fletcher's weight, with one arm, without looking like it's costing him any effort, because Fletcher's only a few inches shorter than Ted and he isn't skinny either. I brush this thought away and watch as Ted slowly uncurls his fist from Fletcher's shirt. The younger boy staggers back, clenching his own fists and glaring furiously at his assailant.

"If you ever presume to touch me again, my family will-"

"Fletcher!" I snap, striding forward. I point to the wide-eyed girl beside him, who's clutching her open shirt together and staring at Ted with some trepidation. "Apologise to this poor girl at once!"

"I… I told you… she grabbed me…"

"I didn't!" cries the girl, looking on the verge of tears now. I put my arm around her and glare at Fletcher.

"Apologise or it's detention."

Fletcher opens his mouth, but Ted steps towards him and he flinches. "Fine. I'm sorry, Karen."

"For…?" I prompt. He stiffens but says sullenly: "For lying about what happened and making you look bad. Won't happen again, alright?"

Karen sniffs against my shoulder. She shoots him a dark look.

"No, it won't!"

I pull back and help her button up her shirt as I gently ask her what house she's in. She replies with Gryffindor and I raise my eyebrows; Gryffindors and Slytherins don't generally get on well enough to make out in empty classrooms. She sees my look and shrugs.

"Family friends," she mutters. I shrug too.

"Five points from Gryffindor, and don't let this happen again." I tell her sternly. She nods and scurries out of the classroom. I turn to Fletcher, catching an oddly warm look on Ted's face as he stares at me. Focusing on the boy in front of me I feel disgusted.

"Fletcher, ten points from Slytherin and if this ever happens again or anything like it, I will be going straight to Dumbledore and I don't like your chances of keeping that badge. Clear?"

He mumbles his assent and I wait for him to leave. Instead he turns on Ted. "You need to learn your place!" he snarls. Ted's hands twitch and I feel a spurt of impatience with Fletcher.

"Stop it, Fletcher!"

He spins back round to stare incredulously at me. "What, you want me to apologise to the mudblood too?"

I open my mouth then close it again, suddenly remembering who I am and the promises I've made to myself.

"No," I mumble to his shoes. "No, don't be silly."

He snorts and sweeps from the room. I can feel Ted's tension and I don't meet his eyes as I straighten the desk the couple were on and walk out too.

We finish patrol in silence.

I have no classes with Ted the next day and this leaves me feeling relieved, until I realise halfway through my afternoon free period that I have Charms Extension with him after dinner. I groan out loud at this, earning myself a concerned look from Louisa's talkative friend whose name I can never remember. Ulrika? Annika? I don't know. Mumbling an apology, I hurry up to my dormitory to immerse myself in Charms work. There's no way I'm going to let him best me at my favourite class when he's already got me feeling guilty about treating him like… well, like a muggle-born. Slumping down on my bed, I grab the cup from my bedside table, fill it with water using _Aguamenti_ and practice using the Substantive charm non-verbally, moodily watching in silence as the water thickens into a viscous gel.

By the time Louisa flounces into the dorm to tell me they're going down to dinner, I'm feeling more confident and calm. I've told myself several times that Ted has no right to get uppity about being treated like what he is. Feeling slightly indignant that Ted should have been angry at all, I gossip and giggle my way down to the Great Hall with Louisa and her cousin Martine, a boisterous half-blood seventh-year who doesn't ever get pushed around by the purebloods because of her reputation with the Earwax-enlarging hex. It's not until I'm finishing my pumpkin and parsnip soup that I glance across at the Hufflepuff table, between mine and the Gryffindor one. To my embarrassment, I drop my spoon into my almost-empty bowl as I meet Ted's dark, serious gaze directly opposite me. I keep my eyes steadfastly fixed on my dessert after that, thankful when dinner is finished and my housemates start leaving.

I'm considering just sending Flitwick an origami bird note saying I feel sick – he'd be so enthralled with the charm work involved to make it flutter its wings that he probably wouldn't even read it - but before I can even get halfway to the doors of the Hall, a tall figure steps smartly in front of me. I cross my arms and scowl up at Ted's smirk.

"Going somewhere, Dromeda? I was going to escort you to Charms. Wouldn't that be nice?"

I'm taken aback at the faint sarcasm in his tone; I didn't think it was possible for a Hufflepuff to sound bitter. Ted takes my silence as an affirmative and, grasping my elbow, gently begins steering me towards the antechamber off the Hall. I wrench my arm away and stare at him suspiciously.

"Why aren't we going to our classroom?"

Ted raises his eyebrows. "Weren't you listening yesterday? Flitwick wants to meet us here for our lessons. Says there's no point taking up a whole classroom and risking Peeves targeting us."

I do vaguely remember Flitwick mentioning Peeves. I was probably too busy pining for my sanity at that point. Wishing for the first time ever that I wasn't so good at Charms, I gesture for him to go on and follow him into the small room.


	4. Chapter 4

_Fourth chapter for my lucky three reviewers!... Oh, god, only three… _

_Nah, s'all good. Three's my favourite number anyway. So, things get a bit more complex for our heroine in this chapter during one of many encounters with that Tonks fellow. Bon appetite!_

_J.K. Rowling must be pretty pleased with herself, coz she owns EVERYTHING I am writing about._

_oooooooooooooooooooooooo _

The antechamber is dimly lit, the fire having burnt low and only one torch left guttering on the walls. The door clicks shut with a sharp sound and I look around for Flitwick, alarmed when I realise we're alone. Ted seems unconcerned; he leans one shoulder against the wall next to the small white marble fireplace, shoves his hands in his pockets and stares absently into the flames. I fidget nervously, watching the firelight chase flickers of gold through his hair and feeling tenser by the moment. After just a few seconds of silence, I burst out with: "Where's Professor Flitwick then?"

Ted looks up, amused, and I realise that I sounded almost accusatory, like he's used _incarcerous _and has Flitwick bound in a cupboard somewhere.

"He's still at the teacher's table, talking to Slughorn. I'm sure he'll be in here soon."

"Right. Yes." I feel like a bit of an idiot so I go over to the mantelpiece too, feigning interest in a slow-ticking metronome with a tiny, swiftly revolving model of a solar system inside. I can feel Ted's eyes on me and I wish Flitwick would hurry up… Don't I? Yes, yes, I do. Ted speaks suddenly, his voice lightly teasing, making me jump and increasing the numb, heavy sensation in my chest and stomach.

"I suppose it's against the rules for you to be alone with me?"

I turn to him and fold my arms, raising my brows. His eyes are a lighter hue this close, milk chocolate instead of dark. "Whose rules, Tonks?"

"It's Ted. Your rules, Dromeda. Pureblood rules."

"It's Andromeda. I follow my own rules, but you're right; I can't say being alone with you isn't against them." I've bristled at the way he says 'pureblood', like he's mocking me, like there's something wrong with it. This guy is so backwards. Has he moved closer?

"Why is that, Dromeda?"

"Andromeda!" I almost snarl, my arms dropping to my sides to curl into fists, annoyed beyond belief. Who does he think he is?

He grins briefly. "Nah, I prefer the short version. Tell me why you can't be alone with me?"

"I won't be alone with you, not can't. There's a difference. And it's because…" I trail off. He's definitely moved closer; he wasn't leaning against the mantelpiece before, I'm sure of it. Should I move back? The smell of spiced apples washes over me as he angles forward slightly and I'm disorientated.

"But you are alone with me. Bit of a slip-up, hmm?"

He's murmuring now and I gulp as I feel his breath fan my hair, my eyelids fluttering slightly. Merlin, he's far too close. I should step back. My gaze locks onto his and I must have been mistaken before, because his eyes are a dark, dense cocoa now, almost black-looking and trained intently on mine. I'm so busy studying his eyes that I don't notice him leaning slowly towards me until it's too late to react properly, so I tilt my chin up slightly, waiting…

We both leap backwards as the door swings open, light from the Great Hall spilling in. Flitwick is backing through the doorway, talking to someone I can't see.

"Yes, yes, Horace, I'm sure it is for educational purposes but really, my vintage shrivelfig brandy is very expensive and I have had it for a number of years… ah! My students are here, so sorry…"

Flitwick slams the door and silently locks it before turning to Ted and me, frozen against the opposite ends of the mantelpiece. He doesn't seem to notice anything amiss but claps his hands, beaming at us as he bustles into the centre of the room.

"Right, sorry for the delay, we'll just get straight into it then. Mr Tonks, if you could please conjure a bathtub? Oh, Miss Black, add a plug, there's a good girl. Good, now the uses of the _aguamenti_ charm…"

I don't make eye contact with Ted for the entire lesson, pretending he's not there so I don't turn around and fling a Stinging hex at him. How dare he try and get all close and personal with me like that! I am absolutely certain that I had been on the verge of stepping away and slapping him when Flitwick came in. Absolutely, unequivocally certain. If Bella hears about Ted's presumptious behaviour she'll drag him to her precious Lord Voldemort and beg for him to be made into an 'example'.

I shiver at the thought.

Flitwick lets us go an hour later and, thanking him quickly, I slip out, dashing through the Great Hall towards the doors. A moment later I hear Ted enter the Hall behind me, footsteps hurried and heavy. Ignoring him, I rush into the Entrance Hall, barely keeping from jogging as I pray that he'll trip or Flitwick will call him back or…

No such luck. He's in the Entrance Hall now, catching up to me, telling me to wait. I whirl around, breathing hard, my wand still hanging from my hand. Ted doesn't seem to notice this; his worried brown eyes are fixed on my face. He steps towards me and I glare at him.

"Stay away from me, Ted."

He offers a nervous smile. "We were in a class together; I'm not exactly stalking you."

"Are you deaf as well as arrogant and stupid? I want to you go. Away. Now." I try to inject as much venom into my voice as possible. He frowns, steps forward. Will he never act as a muggle-born should? My grip on my wand and my resolve both tighten, as does the knot of tension in my chest.

"Look, Dromeda-"

The name does it. Moving faster than he can react, I shriek: "_Stupefy_!"

Ted crumples to the floor. I stand there for a moment, waiting for the elation to come, that I got him to shut up and showed him his place; but I'm not really surprised when I just feel conflicted and inadequate, as usual. Ducking towards a tapestry behind which I know there's a concealed passageway, I cast a muffling spell on it so he won't hear me; then, peeking out at his prone form, I whisper: "_Ennervate_!"

As Ted stirs and sits up groggily, I'm already sprinting down the passageway, ignoring the tear streaking down my cheek.

I refuse to meet Ted's eyes in Defence the next day, staying close to my large group of Slytherins. I leave quickly when the bell rings. During dinner I purposely sit on the side facing the Ravenclaw table so as to avoid meeting his gaze; I know I'm being stupid but I'm just so angry that he's purposefully stuffing up my neat, quiet world. Thankfully I don't run into him on my way back to the common room and by the time I sit down on the sofa and close my eyes, I'm feeling drained but much more relaxed. Maybe I'll borrow Cissy's stack of brainless teenage magazines and just have a lazy flick through those, then have an early night…

"Andromeda! All ready for patrol?"

I open my eyes, trying very hard not to look dismayed as I see Fletcher standing expectantly in front of me. Curse it. It's Wednesday. I've completely forgotten Prefect duty. No mentally mocking Chad Monaghan and his bevy of fan-girls tonight, then. I plaster what I hope is an authentic smile onto my face as I peer up at Fletcher.

"Surely that's not for another hour at least, Fletcher?"

He shrugs, flashing me a winning smile. "I was bored. Might as well start early."

I'm amazed at his self-importance. It's got to be another hour and a half before our patrol is due to start. He's as arrogant as Ted. The smile drops from my face and I stand up.

"Sorry, but I'd rather just start patrol at the usual time. I'll see you down here in an hour and a bit, Fletcher."

Without waiting for his reply, I turn and make my way up to my dorm, casting an Alarm charm which will wake me in an hour. Flopping onto my bed, I give a vague response to Perpetua Nott's pleasantries before drawing my curtains on her side and closing my eyes.

What seems like seconds later, a shrill little voice is sounding from somewhere nearby. I mumble a protest, groping next to me for my wand, which is telling me to 'get up right this instant!' in what sounds disturbingly like a cross between the family house-elf and my mother. I finally mutter the counter-spell into the tip of the wand, stretch, and then lay there blinking for a moment before I abruptly swing my legs over the side of the bed. Perpetua is still here, this time joined by Louisa; they're poring over a catalogue for a magically enhanced jewellery company which is promoting its new range of 'lucky in love' bracelets. They seem like the kind of thing I, as Prefect, should be banning and so I make a mental note to watch out for them in future. Straightening my robes, I stifle a yawn as I reluctantly make my way down the staircase to the common room.

As expected, Fletcher is sprawled in an armchair, looking utterly bored as he draws smoky, elaborate 'F's in the air with his wand. I feel a little bad as I cross the room; maybe I should have stayed and chatted to him. But I was so, so tired. Shrugging to myself, I draw to a stop in front of Fletcher, smiling brightly as he looks up and frowns at me.

"Ready now?" he says moodily and with a heavy dose of sarcasm. My smile falters. I suddenly feel immensely impatient with his tendency to sulk. A true gentleman wouldn't act like this. I think of Ted, immediately bat the thought away and my anger increases tenfold. Screw diplomacy.

"Yeah, I am. Are you coming or not?" I whirl around and storm over to the doorway, shoving it open and muttering an apology to the first-year I almost knock over on the other side. I can hear Fletcher hurrying after me and I ignore him as he catches up to me. A smaller part of my mind is telling me to calm down, that I never used to be this irrational and volatile, but I don't acknowledge it for now.

"What in Slytherin's name is wrong with you?" demands Fletcher.

"Nothing!" I snap, still not looking at him. Fletcher gives a disbelieving snort. I begin to lose steam and slow down, thinking that it isn't Fletcher's fault that he's an arrogant little prick… I've probably overreacted…

"Is it that Tonks mudblood? Has he been hassling you?" I almost flare up again but there seems to be genuine concern in his voice. I force myself to remain passive and shake my head, not meeting his eyes. He sniffs and I can almost feel him draw himself up.

"Well if he does, tell me, Andromeda. I'll take care of the basta- um, fool."

I'm almost touched, although there's a goodly portion of annoyance lingering. Meeting his eyes, I give a small, tight smile.

"Thanks, Fletcher, but he's been absolutely fine."

Lucky I'm a good liar. The subject is dropped and I pass a weary evening of trying to flirt with Fletcher enough to stay in his good graces, but not enough that he tries anything with me. Where is Fabian when I need him?


	5. Chapter 5

_Woop woop! New chapter! Sorry if it's a tad short. In response to one of the reviewers, obviously there has to be a confrontation between these two at some point, but it ain't in this chapter and it might take a while. Just warning you._

_Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! Imaginary points to whoever gets the flower reference without looking it up. No cheating! Lol._

_I own NOTHING and it makes me sad._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooo_

The next day I try to pretend Ted doesn't exist in Muggle Studies, knowing I'll be spending an hour with him during Charms tonight. He seems to be similarly immune to my presence; I brave the disgust of my Slytherin classmates to answer a question on the difference between muggle and wizarding photograph development and he doesn't even glance at me. I don't want to analyse how I feel about this; I decide swiftly that I'm relieved and leave it at that.

I walk down to dinner with a leaden feeling in my stomach, determinedly making conversation with Lucius Malfoy, a haughty but polite fourth-year who wants to know what kind of flowers Cissy likes. I tell him she's vain enough to want daffodils but aside from that, she favours orchids. He looks confused about the daffodil comment but I wave it off and do my sisterly duty by asking him why he wants to know.

"I plan to ask Narcissa to dance the opening dance at my family's ball in March. I thought it would be appropriate to present her with a corsage and I want it to be one she likes."

I glance sideways at his completely serious expression. "Like… courtship? Are you planning to propose?" I'm not sure if I'm joking or not. We are purebloods, after all; our social structures are archaic. Still… he's fourteen! But the look on his face tells me all I need to know.

"Perhaps. Eventually. So, orchids? What colour…?"

I'm so distracted with watching him sneak glances at Cissy all through dinner – and wondering if I should warn her about his intentions – that I almost forget about Charms. As I leave the table with my housemates I crane my neck to search for Ted, feeling a little buzz of surprise going through me when I find him doing the same. I offer a sheepish smile on reflex; by the time I've remembered not to be friendly, he's returned the smile and is strolling through the crowd towards me. Suddenly panicking, I turn and hurry in the direction of the antechamber, searching for Flitwick at the teachers' table. I manage to spot him climbing down from his chair but the hand on my elbow tells me it's too late. Swallowing, I turn and assume a cool, distant expression. Ted looks uncomfortable and takes his hand away from my elbow quickly. It tingles slightly.

"Hallo…" he says hesitantly, peering at me through his messy blonde fringe. I'm surprised at his demeanour; if he wasn't a muggle-born, it should be me acting all timid and apologetic around him. After all, I did attack him then run off. But maybe he's realised his place. Maybe it's finally dawned on him that he showed a complete lack of respect and…

"Dromeda? You alright?"

Maybe not.

"My name is Andromeda!" I hiss. He only looks amused, and oddly relieved, at my flash of temper.

"Dromeda sounds better."

"That's not the point!"

"Ah, so you admit that it sounds better…"

I glare at him, deciding that he is the single most misguided and infuriating git on the face of the earth.

"You," I declare loudly, "are a total idiot."

Ted smiles flirtatiously – why won't he stop doing that? – and opens his mouth to answer, but Flitwick chooses that moment to scurry over, looking slightly annoyed.

"Miss Black! Mr Tonks! You are supposed to be in Charms Extension, not standing over here flirting!"

I can feel myself puff up with indignation but Ted cuts across my outburst, grinning breezily at Flitwick.

"Right you are, sir, we'll cut it out right away."

I round on him, furious, but he just winks at me and saunters off towards the antechamber.

And we're back to where we started.

I actually manage to have fun during Charms, enjoying the rare chance to show off the extent of my abilities. I have to remind myself several times not to be impressed by Ted's similar level of skill. Flitwick encourages friendly competition so he sets us a challenge about ten minutes into the lesson, after watching us trying to outdo each other with our coloured _lumos_ charms (I favour purple whilst Ted, predictably for a Hufflepuff, makes his glow golden yellow). The challenge states that the person who has mastered the most impressive lights display by our post-lunch lesson on the Saturday after this one will get permission to go to Hogsmeade with a friend that afternoon, despite it not being a Hogsmeade weekend. I always enjoy visiting the village but mostly, I just want to beat Ted and prove to myself that Pureblood magic is superior to muggle-born magic.

Halfway through, just as I'm relaxed and concentrating on my spellwork, Ted casually turns towards me.

"What kind of wood is your wand made out of, then?"

I throw him a withering look. Not only am I trying to discourage casual conversation between us, but wands are quite a personal subject. Obviously, having not been brought up as a wizard, Ted doesn't realise this. I'm about to tell him to mind his own business when Flitwick pipes up.

"I'd have thought willow, like your own wand, Mr Tonks."

I glance sharply at Ted's wand, noticing that it does indeed look exactly like mine, if a little shorter and thicker.

"I thought so," he grins, holding up his wand. "Willow, eleven inches, dragon heartstring."

I answer automatically. "Willow, twelve and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring."

I'm annoyed. I want everything about Ted Tonks and myself to be different, separate, but our wands are practically bloody identical. It's like some higher power is teasing me and I'm not in the mood. Reigning in my irrational irritation, I shrug and continue practising the hair-lengthening charm, a type of Glamour, on the curtain tassel in front of me. Unfortunately, Flitwick likes to chat.

"Yes, willow has always been the best type of wood for Charms. Rosewood can often be quite good too, but I think most experts agree that willow is most definitely the wood of choice for Charms specialists. The both of you are quite obviously predisposed towards the subject, as you both display natural skill and you both use willow wands. Quite a bit in common, hmm?"

I grit my teeth and shrug again. Ted chuckles.

"Like peas in a pod, sir," he quips. Oh, I absolutely must beat him on Saturday…

The lesson ends ten minutes later and I stroll out, barely even registering Flitwick's cheery parting comment as my thoughts are focused on those hair-lengthening charms. Tugging a piece of my ponytail around to my face, I'm about to practise doing them non-verbally when I realise that I'll probably end up lengthening my chin if I try and do it like this. Stopping in the middle of the Great Hall, I pull out my hairband and shake my hair back, running both hands through it as I tilt my head back, trying to straighten out the kink. I freeze as I hear a wolf-whistle.

"Don't stop on my account, Dromeda."

Turning, I scowl at Ted where he leans against the wall, surveying me with a twinkle in his eye. Trying to stop the blush spreading across my face, I tell him to go away as I nervously smooth down my tumultuous curls. My hair isn't frizzy or anything, just thick and very bouncy, unlike Bella's fall of springy, symmetrical waves. It might be glossy and soft, but it's a little hard to control. Not that it matters whether I look like a shaggy-haired niffler, because it's only Ted muggle-born Tonks looking at me. Whirling back around, I take a breath then calmly resume my practise, drawing forward one long brown curl and preparing to lengthen it. I hear Ted fall into step beside me and decide to ignore both him and the sudden scent of spiced apples.

Concentrating once more, I silently draw my wand away from the hair, smiling when the tip of the curl follows it, becoming longer and longer until my arm is stretched out in front of me. I let it fall, knowing it will be at least waist-length, but Ted catches it in mid-air, letting it run through his fingers before dropping it by my side. I snatch it up again, knowing I'm probably blushing once more and refusing to look at him. Speeding up, I hear him sigh behind me but he thankfully doesn't try to catch up this time. Holding my ridiculously long piece of hair up in front of me, I open my mouth to utter the counter-spell… only to stop dead in the doorway to the Entrance Hall. I can't safely perform it on myself, because I haven't practised it yet. How did I not practise the counter-spell? Merlin, I'm an idiot…

"What's up?"

Ted's stopped behind me. I dither, still clutching my lengthened hair and unwilling to turn around, embarrassed to admit my mistake. Then he speaks again, and I can hear from the amusement in his voice that he's worked it out.

"Having troubles with the counter-spell, then?"

I stiffen my shoulders. "No…"

My shoulders tense even more as I feel Ted's strong hands on them, pivoting me to face him. He's smiling gently.

"It's OK, I've practised it heaps."

He reaches out to take the hair from me but I snatch it back, horrified.

"No! What are you doing? Don't you dare!"

Ted rolls his eyes. "Dromeda, it's fine, I've fully mastered the counter-spell, it's actually the charm itself I have trouble with-"

"No way!"

He's still trying to catch hold of the hair. I know he's probably perfectly capable of restoring my normal hair length, but a deep-rooted part of me is appalled at the idea of a muggle-born performing magic on me. It's not right. I twist away from him, feeling my back hit the doorframe just as he steps forward. He takes another step forward on reflex, to keep up with me, but misjudges and we end up chest-to-chest, as his hand closes over mine on the lengthened hair. We both stop and stare at each other. I can hear my heart in my ears.

"Dromeda," he says in a low voice. I lick my lips nervously and his dark eyes dart down, fixing on my mouth. I feel a little dizzy; he's so warm, and so close. The smell of spiced apples doesn't help. I can't think. I can't breathe. But I have to do something… he is _not _going to incapacitate me like last time, the creep. No way. I have to do something… he's so close… oh, Merlin, I have to _do_ something…

"Fine, fine, do the counter-spell."

My voice is high-pitched and shaky but it does the trick; Ted's eyes snap back up from my lips, the wide pupils ringed by the merest glow of deep brown. He steps smartly back and I pretend to myself that I don't feel too cold without him so close. I can't believe I'm being so stupid. I need to leave; I need to get back to my purebloods, where I belong and where Ted Tonks most definitely doesn't. Silently, I hold out my hair and he takes it, still looking a little confused.

"Dromeda…?"

"Just do it! I'll have to practise it tonight," I snap at him, gesturing impatiently with the hair. He shakes his head, suddenly looking grim, but does what I say and withdraws his wand, placing it against the length of hair and muttering the counter-spell, his brows furrowed in concentration. I watch him a little too closely and when he glances up at me I look away, fingering my newly shortened hair and hoping he didn't catch the intensity in my gaze.

"Right, thanks then."

Edging past him, I hurry out into the Entrance Hall and take the passageway leading to the dungeons. I'm expecting him to call after me but he doesn't, much to my relief, because I have nothing to say and no thoughts in my head beyond a desperate need to escape.

The next day I wake up feeling refreshed and considerably more self-confident. I brush off the tense little moment Ted and I had as merely over-tiredness on my part, and some stupid misguided crush on his. What was I thinking? Of course I'm not attracted to Ted Tonks. The mere idea is laughable. I could banish a boggart with that. So silly. Just because he's good-looking and easy to get along with. Merlin, I need a distraction… I spend my morning free period practising the hair-lengthening counter-spell until it's perfect. Then, following afternoon Defence – Ted sits at the front whilst I hide in a back corner – and a quick dinner, I spend the entire evening sitting on my bed practising my coloured _lumos_ behind my bed-curtains, no doubt alarming the other girls with my constantly flashing and shimmering bed.


	6. Chapter 6

_Fifteen reviews, I'm rich! Hehe. Thanks guys!_

_I'd recommend that you re-read the previous chapter as it's been a while since I updated. S'up to you._

_So I'm going to England for six months in less than two weeks and as a result, this story is temporarily halted until I settle back in there. Haven't been home in four years, so I'm pretty excited! Rest assured that I have several future chapters written and the whole storyline is mapped out in my head. I really enjoy writing and I won't give up on this story, OK? Also I'll post one more chapter after this one, just before I leave, because this one ends in a way that would just be cruel to leave you with._

_Enjoy! I quite like this chapter, almost as much as I like the next one. Sorry about my slightly unrealistic portrayal of advanced charms magic, but it's not like Hogwarts sent me my damn letter so I never actually studied the subject. ANGRY._

_I'd better stop babbling now._

_Lots of love to the wonderful Goddess Rowling, who owns this shi….. stuff. Am I allowed to swear on this? Hmmm._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

A week passes quickly. Mercifully, I only have one patrol with Ted and that, like the three Charms Extension lessons that go by, is stiff and business-like. Ted has become uncharacteristically cool with me; there's an odd air of defeat about him which makes me uneasy. I practice my lights routine until it's borderline obsessive, but the sense of satisfaction I usually derive from a job well done is mostly lacking. I ignore this, though, and sure enough by Saturday morning I feel excited and assured of my imminent success.

Saturday would normally mean a late and lazy lunch followed by an afternoon of alternately studying, chatting amongst ourselves and watching the Giant Squid meander around the frigid lake through the common room windows. Today, however, I excuse myself from gossiping about that third-year in the corner at noon, wanting to be ready and well-fed for my well-rehearsed lights routine at one o'clock. The hall is still half-empty but my plate fills as I pick up my knife and fork; I eat my chicken breast in bacon and mustard sauce with an unhurried and confident air. There is no way – no way! – that Ted could have put more practice in than I did. He was probably too busy practicing his stupid ekletric guitar… the object of my scorn strolls in at that moment. His eyes immediately – and unsettlingly – find me, quickly darting away as he sees me looking back.

At ten to one, I'm leaning against the wall by the antechamber, twiddling my wand between my fingers. Ted appears next to me, making me jump, but I merely incline my head in his direction and keep my eyes downcast. He's silent. Moody git.

At one o'clock, Flitwick trots down from the teacher's table, greeting us jovially as he pushes the antechamber door open and holds it for us. It takes a few minutes of complimenting the lunch dish and speculating as to whether it might rain today (probable) before Ted gently reminds our teacher of the contest.

Ladies first. Stepping into the centre of the now darkened room, I take a deep breath and concentrate as I raise my wand. I've kept it reasonably simple but pretty with a colour scheme of violet, hot pink and electric blue. The lights begin by flashing alternately and then I employ a wrist-snapping technique which causes tongues of colour to dart about, forming a twisting shape which unravels in starbursts. It's actually a lot more than just advanced _lumos_; many of the spells involved are by nature non-verbal as they require more aimless magic and imagination than ordered thought processes. For a sixth-year, the artistic use of magic behind this is impressive. I work through what is essentially a complex fireworks display and finish with a flourish, blinking as all three colours explode above me and fall in bright spots of light, fading around me. Flitwick is beside himself, applauding and almost bouncing on his chair as he praises my efforts. I shoot Ted a smug grin that clearly says 'top that'; he grins back and I'm taken aback when I realise that he hasn't directly smiled at me for over a week. Sitting, I settle back to watch as Ted takes my place in the centre of the room.

I have to admit that his display is… inspired. Instead of using a range of bright colours like I did, he sticks with his preferred rich gold and uses it to form flickering, fiery shapes, utilising the black outlines formed by the light. Cantering horses morph into rolling oceans which twist into a tree sprouting from the earth. Countless images appear from the glowing mass of light before me; I grow tenser with each one. Unlike my structured display, Ted's work looks spontaneous and easy, like he's just having fun. I comfort myself with the knowledge that the magic I used is undoubtedly just as difficult and advanced as Ted's, perhaps even more so. Still… his is more beautiful. I remain still and don't clap as Ted finishes up and saunters to his chair. Waiting impatiently for Flitwick to stop exclaiming how wonderful Ted was, I briefly meet Ted's eyes. He inclines his head towards me. I interpret it as a placating gesture; he knows he's won. Sighing, I slump back in my seat.

"So," proclaims Flitwick eventually. "I promised a prize to the winner of today's little competition, and a prize there shall be. You both did magnificently; very impressive. And as for who did better…" He pauses and despite myself, I lean forward eagerly. Ted merely looks mildly interested; winning is clearly not such a huge deal for him. It's no mistake that he wasn't sorted into Slytherin.

Flitwick looks as though he's rethinking something; eventually he nods to himself and smiles happily. "In this case, I do not believe that anyone did better. You both displayed very different, but equally skilful, examples of advanced _lumos _charms, amongst other magic. It's a draw!"

What, seriously?

"Ah, but there is a problem," my obviously insane favourite teacher continues. "I have only obtained permission from Professor Dumbledore for two students to attend Hogsmeade this afternoon." He looks troubled for about two seconds before he brightens. "But of course, there are two of you! How silly of me. You may accompany each other to the village, and be sure to use this opportunity to question each other on the marvellous techniques you just demonstrated! You both have your cloaks, I see? Alright then, you can leave right now and have yourselves some extra shopping time! I shall escort you to the doors and see you off; remember to return by five o'clock. If it's getting dark on the way back, do remember it's _lumos_ to light your way…"

Chuckling at his little joke, Flitwick bustles past me. Opening and closing my mouth, I stare helplessly at Ted, who is obviously trying to hold back laughter at my expression. He gestures towards the door, which Flitwick is tugging open.

"Come on," he mutters. "It's only for an afternoon and he'll be hurt if you don't seem excited."

He's right. Sighing, I shut my mouth and clamber to my feet, plastering a smile onto my face as I approach the door.

Flitwick sees us off with a merry wave which I return half-heartedly, pulling my cloak tighter around me against the chilly autumn air. Ted begins to chuckle as we make our way down the long, windswept drive towards the gates.

"Shush," I snap at him, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. I'm beginning to wish I was vain enough to use straightening charms on it and fussily put it up every morning instead of just pulling it into a loose ponytail which inevitably falls out sometime after lunch. Ted only grins widely at me. He seems to have regained some of his disrespectful attitude… how wonderful.

"That was some lovely magic back there," he says in a breezy tone. I scowl.

"Yes, well, not lovely enough to go to Hogsmeade with someone I actually like."

"Who were you going to invite then?"

"Fletcher."

It's not true at all; I was actually going to invite Louisa and leave her with the good-looking shop assistant in Honeydukes whilst I browsed through the bookshop. But the name seemed to come out of my mouth without passing through my brain first. I clamp my mouth shut in surprise and glance across at Ted. He's not smiling anymore; instead he's staring stonily at the ground. Wishing I hadn't spoken because this heavy silence is unbearable, I sigh and attempt to be civil.

"You, um… you did quite well too. With the lights thing. It was… pretty."

He shoots me a surprised sideways look and a shy smile. Embarrassed, I look away and stare out over the lake. It's a steely grey colour; a few owls are sailing over it on the chilly breeze. The mountains behind it, shrouded with mist, are an emerald haze. Silver and green… the Slytherin colours. I sigh and reach up to rub my numbed nose, jerking in surprise as I feel a splash of cold water hit my wrist, exposed between my glove and my sleeve.

"It's raining!"

Ted turns his face up to the sky then screws it up as a raindrop hits him directly between the eyes. I snort and he smiles faintly at me before turning to look back the way we came. We've just passed through the gates about thirty feet back.

"We're over halfway there," I voice his unspoken thought and sigh heavily as I feel more and more water hitting my head in little pellets, stinging where they catch my face. Why didn't I bring a hat? Or an umbrella?

"Come on," says Ted. He places an urging hand on the small of my back and I jerk in surprise, blushing slightly and hurrying forward to hide the fact. We dash through the rain down the road leading to Hogsmeade, entering the village at almost a jog and huddling under the bus stop on the outskirts. Ted lets out his breath with a chuckle and shakes his sodden head, running his hands through his now dark burnished gold locks to unstick them from his scalp. I strip off my gloves and hurriedly do the same, smoothing back my rat's tail strands of rain-blackened hair and surreptitiously watching him. It's strange, but there's something captivating about his dishevelled wet hair and the droplet of water running over his lips, snaking its way down through the slight stubble coating his chin and jawline. I become aware that I've gone still, engrossed as I am in that little droplet, and that Ted has also gone still, eyes intent on me.

Swallowing, I step away, suddenly aware that once he's wet his usual spiced apples aroma changes into a lighter, fresher sort of scent; earthy with an overtone reminiscent of a freshly bitten apple. Merlin, why does he always smell like apples? It's a stupid thing to smell like, especially considering that apples are my favourite fruit. I frown and busy myself with my hair, scraping it back into a high ponytail, still sleek and straight with water.

"It's still raining," I comment lamely.

"Yeah. Should we go the Three Broomsticks? That's just a short way up the road and it's sure to be warm in there. We could get a butterbeer."

He says the last part almost shyly and I shrug, knowing that the Broomsticks is the most logical place to go. Taking a deep breath, we rush out into the downpour and hurry across the road then up the pavement until we reach the pub. Tumbling through the large wooden doors, we're greeted by a wave of warm, slightly smoke-tinged air and I breathe a sigh of relief. The pub is empty except for an old man by a window; he's conversing in mutters with his own rain-streaked reflection. Ted is shrugging off his cloak and I quickly do the same, handing it to him with a nod then wandering over to the large fireplace whilst he hangs our wet cloaks up on the hatstand by the doors. He joins me at the fire, silently holding his large hands out to the glow. I sneak a sideways look at him only to find him peering at me through his dripping fringe. Despite myself, I smile and his face breaks out into a grin. He jerks his head towards the bar.

"Butterbeer, then?"

I'm still quite cold. A warm drink would be perfect. Nodding, I follow him to the bar, eyeing the pretty blonde barmaid with interest. Old Hoggart, the owner of the pub, has recently started training up his eldest daughter Lorita as the new assistant manager, but I don't get the feeling she's enjoying it much. It's usually his little one Rosmerta who displays the most interest; she's in her first year at Hogwarts now, but last year she was always rushing around the place, cleaning tables and chatting to customers. Lorita is leaning her hip against the bar, engrossed in a copy of _Witch Weekly_. Ted clears his throat and she looks up with an irritated expression which immediately clears when she sees who it is.

"Teddy!" she squeals, leaning over the bar and exposing a fair amount of cleavage. She holds her arms out and he laughs, leaning forward to hug her and kiss her cheek. I press my lips together, illogically irritated with this display. The woman is obviously a complete tart. How old would she be anyway? Nineteen? That's three years older than 'Teddy'. Ridiculous.

"Hey, Lor," he says, disentangling himself from her tentacles. "How are you? Still looking lovely, I see. When are you going to get out of here and become a model? Hmm? You're wasted on this village."

He flashes her an admittedly charming smile and she giggles, twirling her hair and fluttering her artificially dark eyelashes. I grimace as I realise that this is how I looked whilst flirting with Fletcher. Merlin's beard…

"Oh, Ted, you do flatter me! It's wonderful to see you, running this place is so boring when it's not a school visit weekend…" She sighs theatrically. "Why are you here? The school visit isn't until next week!"

"Dromeda and I won a competition." Lorita's eyes swivel to me and she smiles faintly as she looks me up and down, obviously appraising my relationship with Ted. I give her a blank look, unable to overcome my strong and rather unfair dislike for this flashy, flirtatious woman. Ted swiftly diverts her attention back to himself. "And lucky we did, or I wouldn't have seen you for ages!"

She beams at him. I scowl at them both.

"Teddy, you are such a charmer. It's people like you that make this job bearable! What'll it be? It's on the house, for you and your little friend."

"Oh, Lorita-"

"No, no, I get paid more than I deserve by Dad anyway. Tell you what, you both look a bit damp and cold-"

"Yeah, terrible weather out there-"

"- how about a couple of firewhiskys?"

"Oh, Lor, are you sure?"

I'm about to open my mouth and tell them that serving sixteen-year-olds firewhisky is highly illegal, but Lorita gives a particularly shrill giggle and pats his hand affectionately.

"For you, Teddy? Of course, you silly boy!"

"You're an angel, I swear."

I cross my arms and glower as Lorita pours two generous measures of firewhisky, flashing Ted a coy little smirk as she does so. He takes them, thanking her profusely, which she waves off with another giggle. He turns to me, proffering a firewhisky, and I have no choice but to take the cursed thing. Raising an eyebrow at my surly expression, he smiles brightly at me.

"Shall we find a table?"


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry, sorry, sorry! I know I said I'd have this up last week, but I was packing then travelling then I've been so busy and I'm using my grandparents' internet so I haven't been online much… I haven't even had time to do any last-minute editing on this chapter. Might be a bit crap._

_Anyway, it's up now and I hope you likey. I think it's a pretty good place to leave it on hiatus and I doubt it'll be a long hiatus, but I don't want to make any promises and I won't lie, writing is not my priority at the moment. Lots to see and do and remember. I will continue it though!_

_Love to all and thanks for all the ahmaaazing reviews. You guys rock._

_All belongs to Rowling._

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

I've never had firewhisky before and I eye it apprehensively as I slide into my seat at the table furthest from the bar. Needless to say, I've chosen the table. Still fuming for no good reason, I glare at Ted as he leans back in his chair and sips at his small amber-coloured drink. He cocks his head to one side and regards me with blatant amusement.

"I gather you didn't warm to Lorita? I think she quite liked you."

"Only because she thought I wasn't… that we weren't…"

Ted sits back forward. "But we're not." He says it quietly and my frown deepens.

"Yes. I know. Don't be an idiot, Ted."

Angrier than ever and feeling horribly confused and frustrated, I grab my drink and take a quick gulp. Immediately, my throat and mouth are on fire. I give a great gasp and slam the drink back down, miraculously only spilling a few drops, as I begin to cough and splutter. Ted leans towards me, obviously holding back laughter.

"Um, Dromeda, OK, just stay calm and take deep breaths. Here."

He conjures a tall glass of water and I gulp some down, barely keeping from choking on it. Ted sits with his lips pursed, watching me as I down the whole glass then slump back in my seat, panting. I'm aware that my hair is falling loose from my ponytail, my face probably resembles an overripe tomato and my eyes and nose are blotchy and running. It's times like these that I wish I could change my appearance at will. I've heard that there are people who can do that, but they're so rare I'll probably never even meet one.

"So Dromeda…" Ted ventures. "I should warn you that firewhisky is quite strong. You should probably just take small sips."

I shoot him a filthy look. Really though, now that my coughing fit has subsided to a dull ache in my throat, I feel quite pleasant. There's spreading warmth in my belly and my head is buzzing slightly. Reaching for the firewhisky, I take a cautious sip of the liquid, swallowing quickly. It burns again, but this time I'm prepared and I inhale slowly. The burn fades fast, leaving more of that warm glow. I begin to relax, pulling my hair back into its ponytail and settling back in my chair. Ted is watching me with a smile playing about his lips and I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Better?" he asks politely. I nod.

"This stuff isn't too bad." I comment. "I mean, it doesn't exactly taste good, but it feels… pleasurable."

Ted seems to cough slightly into his drink and I watch in surprise as a blush spreads across his cheeks. He doesn't look at me and I shrug it off, taking another measured sip of my firewhisky. I look up at the battered broomstick mounted on the wall above us.

"You play quidditch, don't you, Ted?" I hear myself ask. What? Am I actively making conversation with the muggle-born now?

He looks a little surprised too, but smiles at me. "Yeah, I'm keeper. Only joined halfway through last year because Bones decided he'd rather study for the OWLs." He scoffs as if this were a stupid decision. I frown at him as I take another, larger sip of my drink.

"Study is important."

He grins at me. "It is. But so's quidditch. Anyway, it worked for me because I'd wanted to get on the team since third year, but Bones always just beat me at tryouts every year. Then this year at tryouts, he tried to get back on the team but I ended up beating him and so I kept my place as keeper. He almost took a swing at me."

I gasp but he laughs. "Don't worry, he wouldn't. He's not a complete idiot." He winks at me and I roll my eyes. "He still won't talk to me if he can help it though."

Ted frowns as though this bothers him and I lean forward. My head is definitely feeling a little odd. It's a nice feeling.

"You don't like conflict, do you?"

He smiles at me. "Who does?"

"My sister," I say soberly. I take a big mouthful of firewhisky, wincing as I swallow it, and realise with vague surprise that I've emptied my glass. "She's joined this stupid Walpurgis thing precisely so she can fight people and feel like she's… powerful or something."

Ted frowns. "Walpurgis? Not the Knights of Walpurgis?"

"Yeah, the muggle-hating one. I mean, sure, everyone likes to talk about purebloods being better and all that, but these people… my sister… they want to do something about it. It's going too far." I suddenly remember that I'm talking to a muggle-born and glance up apologetically, but Ted merely looks troubled, his chocolate eyes downcast. I lean forward.

"Hey," I say, and I have no idea where the words come from but I regret them almost straight away. "I'm sorry. The Knights of Walpurgis are idiots. Don't be sad… it'll be OK."

He looks up, a warm smile spreading over his face. He leans forward too, so that we're only inches apart. I hold my breath, my eyes widening.

"Dromeda…" he murmurs. My lips part and the fuzziness in my head is joined by the pounding of my heart.

"Dromeda…" he says again. "You're tipsy."

I remain frozen in place as he relaxes back into his chair, watching me with a smirk. Straightening slowly, I frown at him.

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"I… can I have another firewhisky?"

Ted chuckles, shaking his head. "I think you should have a butterbeer."

"But they're practically non-alcoholic. I'm not a child, Ted." I pout at him in a child-like manner. His smile fades slightly and his eyes wander over my face.

"I know," he sighs. Shrugging, he pushes his half-finished drink across to me. "You can finish that off if you like. But after that I'm getting us two butterbeers. OK?"

I scowl at the drink, but I know that I won't be able to get one off of Lorita and the warm feeling in my stomach is really very pleasant. So I reach for the drink and take a sip. Ted snorts and I glance up at him.

"Don't turn into an alcoholic on me," he says teasingly. I roll my eyes and glance back up at the broomstick on the wall. Ted must have followed my eyes because he says quietly:

"I never see you at any games."

I shake my head. "Not too keen on quidditch. Bella used to be beater, but Father made her drop it last year when he found out. Cissy couldn't care less, but she watches the games sometimes to be social. I was thinking of watching some games this year…"

Ted leans forward a little. "Why?"

"To be social."

He slumps. "Oh."

I take another sip. "How did you learn to play quidditch? Muggles don't know how."

Ted shrugs. "I guess I picked it up from the other boys here in school. I was fairly good at flying in my first year…"

"I remember!" I exclaim suddenly, sitting up straight. "You were in my class! It took me five goes to get my broom off the ground, but you got it second go. Someone said you were muggle-born and I was so surprised because I hadn't thought muggle-borns could do untaught magic like broom commands. I thought they had to have… special training just to do magic. I didn't know your name then."

"Sounds like you didn't know much then at all," says Ted seriously. There's no malice in his voice but I bristle, frowning at him.

"Listen, it was reasonable of me to assume that because you don't have magical blood-"

"But magic has nothing to do with blood," he interrupts. "I know of no magical ancestry in the Tonks family yet I'm a perfectly capable wizard. See?"

Withdrawing his wand, Ted waves it through the air in silence. A deep purple rose falls onto the table between us. He picks it up; there's a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

"We haven't covered non-verbal conjuring in Transfiguration yet," he mutters, offering me the rose without meeting my gaze. I have to admit it's a beautiful flower. Biting my lip to keep from smiling, I reach out to take the rose. Ted looks up as I do and watches as I bury my nose in its velvet petals. It has no fragrance, of course, but I inhale anyway.

"Sorry," says Ted, reaching out and tapping the rose, whispering some incantation I can't catch. Suddenly the scent of what seems like dozens of roses fills my nostrils and I laugh with delight.

"You'll have to teach me that one," I say softly. Ted grins at me and I suddenly realise that we've crossed the line into tentative friendship. I could probably still turn back and treat him with coldness and scorn, but I don't have it in me and I don't want to. I have to be careful though; we can't get too close or people will notice, and then I'd never hear the end of it. From anyone. I couldn't deal with the backlash, or the implications, of publicly having a relationship of any kind with a 'mudblood'.

Pushing the firewhisky back towards Ted, I scramble to my feet. "I'll get the butterbeers, then."

"Dromeda," Ted says suddenly, and it sounds as though he's trying to hold himself back but can't quite manage it. "Were you really going to invite Parkinson?"

I stare at him, clutching the rose to my chest. Merlin, I can't tell him I was lying. I have to maintain some distance. I have to.

"Yes," I reply smoothly after a slight pause, the Slytherin in me rising to the occasion. "Why wouldn't I? He's in my house. He's a friend."

Ted frowns and I turn away quickly.

After light, general conversation over the butterbeer, Ted exclaims that the rain has stopped and we still have time to go for a browse amongst the shops. I'm feeling more relaxed and smiling more than I can remember doing for… well, forever. We meander through the laneways, pointing out various items in windows. I still have my rose. As I catch our reflection in the window of Madam Puddifoots, framed prettily – if a little tackily - by the frilly pink curtains, it occurs to me that we look disturbingly like a couple out on a date. Panicking slightly, I turn to Ted and blurt out:

"We should go back up to the castle now."

Ted looks at his watch. "We still have twenty minutes before we need to set off, Dromeda."

"I'm tired though. I'd really like to go back."

"Got a date with someone?" It's obviously a joke, but it comes out sounding slightly strained. I take a deep, determined breath and level him with a blank stare.

"If I do, Ted, it's none of your concern. OK?"

I hope miserably that he gets the message. He considers me for a moment, his expression slightly grim. I hold my breath until he nods slowly.

"OK."

We walk back up to the castle in near silence. Ted makes a comment once in a while and I respond as well as I can with this sudden heaviness that's in my chest. He's become slightly cooler, still friendly but in a generic, distanced sort of way. I suddenly grasp, as we're climbing the front steps into the Entrance Hall, that this is how it will be now. And that's good, I know it is, but… swallowing, I mumble a goodbye to Ted and barely hear his response as I hurry towards the corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeons. I know somehow that he doesn't move until I'm out of sight.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sooo I've updated! This does not mean that I'm going back to one update a week. It's going to be more like one a month. I have a life and it's busy. But there will be updates, so don't get all whingey._

_I got into Hufflepuff on Pottermore, thank god, because there'd be nothing worse than to KNOW with all your heart that you're in one house then BAM, the sorting hat puts you in another. I'm such a badger though, I don't know what I was worried about. Just out of interest, what houses are you guys in? If of course you're enough of a fan to be on Pottermore, otherwise don't worry about it…_

_Sorry, I'm feeling chatty. Enjoy!_

_Also I don't own this._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Sunday means a revoltingly long Defence essay on the various mermaid communities in the world; we've been doing a few lessons on the best ways to defend oneself from territorial attacks, as mermaids are well known for being easily provoked and aggressive. I decide, after discussing it over lunch with Danielle Nott – who isn't as airheaded as she seems, actually – that putting some Mermish phrases and proverbs in the essay might be a great way of illustrating my main points and earning extra marks. With that thought in mind, I head down to the library to brave the frightening new librarian, Miss Pince. She looks like the result of a botched attempt at Polyjuice potion using vulture feathers, and insists that students address her as 'Madam' Pince. I'm fairly sure there is absolutely no chance of that ever happening.

"Excuse me, Miss Pince-" I begin in a quiet tone as I approach the library desk.

"Speak quietly, Miss Black," snaps Pince in a considerably more carrying tone than the one I'd been using. I purse my lips then continue in little more than a whisper.

"Sorry, Miss. I was wondering-"

"I believe I instructed you last week to address me as Madam Pince?"

"You did. Where might I find the books on Merfolk, please?"

"Impertinent child," mutters Pince as she pulls a huge, tattered tome towards her and starts flipping through it. A moment later, she hisses the library section at me and watches me walk away with a suspicious glare. She's only in her thirties but it seems entirely appropriate to mutter 'mad old bat' under my breath once I'm out of earshot.

Reaching the aisle to which Pince directed me, I turn to walk down it… only to stumble slightly as I spy Ted Tonks down the end, sprawled across the window seat as he makes notes from the book laid open against his knees. Frozen, I wonder if it would be an overreaction to leave. Maybe I should. Then again, the mature way to handle the situation would be to greet Ted, find the book and settle down to make my own notes. As I'm dithering, though, Ted seems to sense a presence because he looks up, the light from the window haloing his blonde head. He smiles in surprise and lays his quill down.

"Hey, Dromeda."

I smile weakly and step forward, staring at the book titles and trying to make it clear that I'm here to do schoolwork. He seems unfazed by my lack of response, though.

"What are you looking for?"

I sigh and turn to face him.

"Books on Merfolk, specifically Mermish customs, fables and proverbs."

"Oh, really? For Defence, I'm guessing?"

I nod as I swing back to the shelves. He keeps talking.

"I've almost finished and I actually used a great little book I found on ancient Mermish legends and traditions and stuff. One of my paragraphs is pretty much a summary of it. You can take a look, if you like."

Reluctantly, and after checking that no one is around, I nod.

"Thanks. That would be, um, good."

It's as Ted is passing me his essay that it strikes me how very weird this is. I'm studying with a muggle-born. Practically everyone in my house would be revolted if they could see me now. I tell myself to relax a little; no one really goes to the library on a Sunday afternoon, it's not until after dinner that people begin panicking about overdue essays and assignments. Sitting gingerly on the window seat next to Ted's feet, I begin to read the paragraph he points out to me. His writing is messy but decipherable, as it takes up about twice the amount of room that my neat calligraphy does.

The paragraph is annoyingly well-written and he makes some points and connections that I wouldn't have come up with. It's really very useful and it's cut my research time on the subject in half. He's probably going to get full marks, or near enough.

"It's not too bad," I shrug as I pass it back to him. He chuckles.

"Judging by that scowl on your face, I'd say it must be pretty good," he teases. I roll my eyes and get to my feet, fetching a few dusty old books and bringing them back to the window seat. Ted begins to question me on my essay, on what I've liked studying in Defence, on whether I think the NEWTs for it'll be too difficult. Before I know it an hour has gone by and I've made a whole foot of notes for my next two paragraphs and had a detailed and enjoyable discussion with Ted about the merits and drawbacks of DADA.

And I can hear the voices of Bella and Rodolphus coming our way.

Stiffening, I stare in alarm towards the entrance of our aisle, knowing that in about ten seconds Bella will walk past and see me studying with Ted. And, being Bella, she'll find out his blood status within the hour and gleefully report it to Father… then sit back and enjoy the carnage. I'll be home schooled. No, I'll be married off to some middle-aged pureblood tycoon within six months. I sag in horror at the thought.

"What's wrong?" asks Ted, sounding puzzled. I gesture frantically towards the end of the aisle and Ted, listening, dawns with understanding. Looking amused, he withdraws his wand and concentrates for a moment, closing his eyes. I start as he places his wand at the top of my head and almost squeak in shock as an odd trickling sensation moves down my body. Has he put some kind of liquid on me? Does he think he's being funny?

All thoughts vanish as Bella and Rodolphus come into view and, to my utmost dismay, turn and stroll into our aisle. Bella glances towards the window seat, casts a dismissive eye over Ted, then…

Then she turns back and continues talking to Rodolphus.

Confused by her lack of recognition – she only just spoke to me this morning, after all – I turn to Ted, expecting to see him looking puzzled too. However, he's leaning casually back against the wall, smirking slightly at the book in his lap. Frowning, I think of the way Bella didn't just not recognise me… she didn't appear to see me.

Did Ted turn me invisible?

I know which spell he used, of course. The disillusionment charm is well-known, but it's NEWT level. Not that I wouldn't be capable, but I simply haven't studied it yet. Ted's been reading ahead… as well as performing an effortlessly stunning lights display, mastering muggle hybrid magic in his third year and writing superior DADA essays to mine. I can't decide if this infuriates me enough to hex him right now and risk being revealed to Bella. As my grip tightens on my wand, however, my sister's voice saying my name distracts me.

"… although Andromeda does seem a lot more animated this year. I think she's finally grown up. You know, I was getting really quite worried about her. Didn't she always seem so… backwards, to you? Smart and all, but no backbone and no pride…"

"Yeah, exactly," agrees Rodolphus enthusiastically, gazing at Bella as she runs a long fingernail along the edge of the bookshelf then withdraws a book, dropping it onto the small pile in his arms.

"Still, maybe she's finally realised that she's lucky enough to belong to one of the finest and purest wizarding families in Britain. Merlin knows she never showed much interest in upholding the family name before, but she's finally using it to her advantage, finally got some decent friends. Although…" Bella snickers. "I doubt it's the family history she's used to get young Fletcher so interested. What d'you reckon, Rod? Have they been getting up to no good on Prefect duty?"

My mouth drops open and I shoot a glance at Ted. He's frowning at the page in front of him, rolling his quill slowly between his strong fingers. I look back at Bella, feeling indignant as she continues without waiting for Rodolphus' response.

"As long as she's fooling around with the right people, I don't care what she does. I mean, Fletcher comes from an important pureblood family, so he's fine. But I can't stand this new rule that's having her hang around with mudblood scum. I'm not sure who else she's been paired with, but I'll bet there's mixed blood in there. No sister of mine should have to put up with that! I tell you, Rod, the Knights are going to change everything. We'll wipe out the muggle filth in our society and in our schools. I can't wait!"

There's something disturbingly sensual about her flushed face and low, excited voice. Rodolphus obviously notices because he agrees and pulls Bella out of the aisle, arm tight around her waist as he murmurs in her ear. They disappear and there's a few seconds of silence before Ted leans over and taps his wand gently on top of my head again. A brief trickling sensation, then I take a deep breath and look at him. He's a little pale and looks vaguely nauseated.

"How horrible," he mutters, more to himself than to me.

"I know."

He glances sharply up at me. "You don't agree with her then?"

"Well… I guess I don't, or I wouldn't be suffering your presence right now, would I?" I try to make the words sound humorous but they come out more bitter than anything. Ted smiles faintly.

"Yeah, well, thanks for that."

I don't answer and there's an awkward silence during which I twist to stare out the window and watch the diamond-hard sunlight sparkling on the lake. I've never admitted before, even to myself, that I actually fully disagree with the Knights of Walpurgis and with this idea of 'purging' our society. In fact, after spending time with Ted, I'm not sure that our society isn't better-

No. That's a dangerous thought.

Sighing, I get up from the window seat, gathering my notes and screwing my inkpot back closed.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go finish my essay in the common room. I told Danielle that I'd meet her at three and it must be about twenty past."

Ted pauses for a second and when he speaks again, his voice is so serious that I turn and look at him.

"I'm really sorry. That you have to live with that, I mean. All that hate and prejudice. I… I really admire you for being strong, or brave or whatever, enough to have your own beliefs. And for suffering my presence."

He winks at me then, and I can't help but grin back. No one has ever described me as either strong or brave before, nor is it a notion that I've ever entertained. I feel better about myself, right there in that moment, than I ever have before in my life.

The rest of the day blurs past me, a quick apology and discussion with Danielle cut short when I espy Bella sauntering into the common room. I'm not in the mood to think about her and the life she's leading so I escape to the dorm and scribble off the rest of my essay there, going to bed depressingly early even for a Sunday night.

Double charms the next morning means spending half of the first period telling Flitwick what a splendid time I had in Hogsmeade and thanking him repeatedly for giving Ted and I permission. This in turn means spending half the second period telling Louisa what an awful chore it was to have to go to Hogsmeade with that Tonks boy, as well as giggling about how fun Prefect duty with Fletcher is going to be tonight. Needless to say, I'm quite exhausted by the end of it – the fact that it's a Monday doesn't help - and I make for the bathrooms for some peace as soon as the bell rings for morning break. To my surprise and alarm, Ted catches up with me in the hallway.

"Hey," he greets me. "We have prefect duty Thursday night, yeah?"

I glance around and turn down a quiet corridor, out of noticing range.

"Yes."

"Maybe we should just hang out after Charms instead of going back to our common rooms. It's only an hour and a half. We could practice Charms or Defence or Muggle Studies, or maybe play Exploding Snap…?"

He sounds so hopeful. I bite my lip, worried by how much I want to 'hang out' with him. Glancing sideways, I see him peering at me through his hair with chocolate eyes, a slight shadow of stubble visible on his jaw.

"Alright then," I say before I can think better of it. He beams and I sigh inwardly at my own impulsiveness.

"But I'm better at chess," I continue hurriedly.

"Which kind?"

I'm confused. "There's more than one kind?"

He laughs. "Sorry, that was a stupid question. Wizard chess is more fun anyway, although I'm crap at it."

I shrug. "I'll enjoy beating you, then."

Ted snorts. "You are such a Slytherin."

"Thank you."


	9. Chapter 9

_I'M SORRY. This is a lot later than I planned and it's not because I haven't been writing, I've been writing heaps, it's because I simply haven't had the time to update. I'm only just squeezing this update in now. Don't hate me._

_Again, I recommend that you read back a bit to re-familiarise yourself with the story. I apologise if this chapter is iffy… I'm not too sure about it but we'll see what you guys think. Enjoy!_

_It's all Jo's. Say no to suing._

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I catch myself looking forward to Charms on Tuesday night. I tell myself it's because of the wonderful opportunity to show off my perfect Substantive charm. Ted doesn't try to talk to me before the lesson, just saunters up to the antechamber at the same time as Flitwick. At the end, I brace myself for the inevitable awkward conversation, but Ted stays back to discuss the lesson with Flitwick, flashing me an easy smile as I leave. I'm relieved that he's finally getting the hint, without being cold or hostile towards me like Fletcher would have been.

Thursday is unusually warm for autumn, meaning a themed Charms lesson that night. Flitwick turns up with two bowls of bright orange ice cream and offers the rest of the tub – under a permanent freezing charm - as a prize for whoever non-verbally changes the colour of their dessert quickest. I haven't practised this charm non-verbally but it's not difficult magic; I concentrate and soon enough I watch my ice cream turn hot pink… just a second or two after Ted gives a shout of triumph over his bowl of acid green. Disgruntled, I watch as Flitwick shakes Ted's hand and presents him with the rest of the tub. We spend most of the rest of the lesson eating our ice cream – Flitwick produces his own bowl seemingly from nowhere – around the fire, which is unorthodox but pleasant.

The only tense moment occurs as I'm finishing up. A large drop of melted ice cream falls from my spoon onto my index finger; raising the digit to my lips, I carefully lick the ice cream off. As I do this, I happen to glance up into Ted's eyes. They're dark and liquid and fixated on my mouth. I hold my breath for a long moment, shaking finger balanced on my lower lip. It's amazing how totally clear someone's thoughts and desires can be, just from their facial expression and their eyes. In that second, staring at Ted staring at me, I'm terrified that my own thoughts and desires might mirror what I can so clearly see in his face. Then the second passes; he seems to realise how he's looking at me and I watch as he glances away, blushing and fumbling with his spoon. There's a fluttering sensation in my stomach as I scrape up the last of my ice cream, swallowing hard and gazing at my stocking-covered knees.

The end of the lesson comes quickly and I've almost forgotten that Ted and I were going to 'hang out', as he put it, until patrol. We leave the antechamber together and I'm beginning to think that he really has forgotten, as he remains quiet and thoughtful all the way through the Great Hall. As we pass into the Entrance Hall, though, he speaks:

"Hey, it's a nice day still. Do you really want to play chess?"

I consider him. He's looking at the ground but his voice is light and relaxed. He doesn't seem on-edge, which puts me at ease.

"What else did you have in mind?"

He looks up at me and smiles.

"You know Hagrid? He's the gamekeeper's assistant. Well, co-gamekeeper, really, since old Ogg's getting on a bit."

I nod my head. I've seen Rubeus Hagrid working about the grounds and all the Slytherins are suspicious about his size. Even with no proof, we all refer to him as 'the half-breed'. I've only heard him talk once, in a thick, gruff voice, when he was helping restrain a spooked winged horse during one of my fourth-year Care of Magical Creatures classes. I've always assumed he's a moody, slow-witted sort. Ted continues:

"We could go see if he's still trying to train the giant squid. That's always funny to watch and he always does it of an evening, because there are no students about and the squid is normally closer to the shallows then."

I shudder at the thought of anyone actually trying to train the giant squid. Sometimes it drifts past the common room windows, casting its huge, monstrous shadow and darkening the pale green light in the room to a deep, sinister gloom reminiscent of the Forbidden Forest. Still… it would be a shame to waste the unusual September warmth and I wouldn't have to worry so much about being seen with Ted. I shrug.

"Alright, let's go see the ha… um, Hagrid."

He doesn't notice my slip and we trudge out the front doors. I sneak glances at Ted's serene profile, highlighted by the flaming sunset, all the way down the drive and onto the stretch of lawn which slopes towards Ogg's little hut, where the Hagrid fellow is seated outside his sturdy tent doing something with a bundle of twigs. From what I understand, he sleeps in the tent if he has to stay in the grounds overnight, but otherwise he has a room in the basements of the castle. I get the feeling he stays in the tent as much as possible. Outdoorsy type.

I hang back as Ted strides up to the huge man, greeting him cheerfully and exchanging pleasantries. Hagrid lumbers to his feet and grasps most of Ted's forearm in his own gigantic hand. Black eyes twinkling, he looks me over where I cower behind my companion.

"An' who's this, Ted? Friend o' yours?"

Ted raises his eyebrows at me and it takes me a second to remember that I'm supposed to introduce myself in these situations. Stepping forward and craning my neck back, I smile nervously and watch as the upper section of Hagrid's great big bushy beard parts around a grin.

"Hello… Mr Hagrid. I'm Andromeda Black. It's lovely to meet you."

Thank Merlin I was raised with good social skills, although it seems odd to be using them on someone I've always assumed is mentally challenged. But Hagrid replies just as politely, albeit with a ridiculous accent.

"Pleased ter meet yer, but yer can drop the 'Mister' an' all. Jus' call me Hagrid. An' wha' brings you two down 'ere so close to curfew, eh?"

"We're both prefects and we're patrolling later anyway. I was telling Andromeda about the Giant Squid and how you're training it," Ted explains. "Are you going down to the lake now?"

Hagrid replies – something about bowtruckles – but I'm smiling at Ted and his rare use of my full name. Finally, some respect! Although I can't say the name 'Dromeda' annoys me much anymore. I tune in to Hagrid, who's still speaking:

"…but I s'pose there 'ent much else can be done, 'part from packin' some extra ointmen' on their legs. Shame abou' such a nasty disease being around 'ere, but as long as they're safe inside, should be alrigh'."

With that, he disappears inside the stout, heavily patched tent with the bundle of twigs, which I can now see is a drowsy-looking bowtruckle with what appears to be sickly orange moss all over its legs. Sidling up to Ted, I ask in a whisper what's happening. He shoots me an amused look before answering in a normal tone of voice.

"Hagrid's gone to make sure the bowtruckles are looked after and then he's coming down the lake to show us what he's been up to with the giant squid."

"He's actually managed to teach it things?"

Ted shrugs. "Some. He's being a bit optimistic about the whole thing, if you ask me, but he gets it to count and roll over and stuff."

"Great…"

Hagrid emerges from the tent at that moment, smiling at us and carrying a large, dripping cloth bag full of, by the smell of it, slightly rotten fish. I gag slightly but quickly control my expression. He shrugs on a short, bedraggled furry jacket slung over the chair next to him before setting off towards the lake. I give Ted a dubious look but follow the gigantic man, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. It's getting a little cooler now and I shiver, wishing I'd worn my scarf. Maybe it's a good thing that I'm almost jogging; I might be so warm by the time we get there that it won't matter.

By the time we reach the lake's shore, the water reflecting the remaining orange glow from sunset, I'm puffing slightly but to my annoyance, Ted doesn't look bothered by the brisk walk across the grounds. I pull my hair out of its now-unravelled plait and smooth it back into a ponytail, catching Ted looking away quickly as I glance at him. Hagrid, meanwhile, is wading from the narrow, pebbly beach into the water until he's knee-deep in his waterproof thigh-length boots. He whistles, low and long, and pulls a long, floppy brownish fish out of his bag. I watch as he trails the fish over the surface of the water, still emitting those eerie whistles. The light is fading but I can still see as, after a few minutes, the tip of a large, pale tentacle rises suddenly out of the water, trying to grab the fish. Hagrid pulls it back.

"Now, now," he chides as if the squid is a small child. "Yer won' be gettin' a fish if yer don' show off the trick I taught yer."

The tentacle waves higher, insistently, but Hagrid whistles again, this time short and sharp. The tentacle withdraws for a moment before rising again, this time accompanied by another tentacle. Hagrid turns to beam at us.

"Watch this, you two, took me a while t' get this righ'!"

He turns back to the waiting tentacles and says, very loudly: "Three."

One of the tentacles taps against the other: once, twice… three times. I laugh and clap along with Ted as Hagrid drops the fish into the water, whereupon the tentacles dart back under the surface. As the sky darkens from peach and periwinkle to a deeper blue, we both light our wands and stand at the edge of the water, watching Hagrid proudly count up to eight with the squid. It's not until Ted glances at his watch that we realise we're going to be late for patrol. Saying a quick goodbye to Hagrid, we scramble up the boulder-scattered rise until we reach the driveway, winding back up to the castle.

I'm breathless again by the time we tumble through the front doors, fifteen minutes late for patrol. Ted chats away while I get my breath back; he's not puffed out in the slightest. His golden hair is tousled by the night breeze outside and his dark eyes are sparkling. Turning away abruptly, I cut across his remark on how disappointed he is that Hagrid hasn't taught the squid to fetch, saying that we're late enough for patrol as it is. I'm quiet for the rest of the night, responding distractedly when Ted says something. Eventually he subsides into silence too. I'm disturbed by how much fun I've had; usually, watching a probable half-giant bribe an underwater monster to perform tricks wouldn't be my idea of entertainment.

I have a sinister feeling that my enjoyment of the evening had little to do with either Hagrid or the giant squid.

When I trudge back into the common room only less than a dozen people are up, grouped around the fire. They call me over to them and, smiling nervously, I settle myself on the spare end of the sofa next to Rabastan, Rodolphus' surly thirteen-year-old brother. Looking around, I can see Rodolphus, Bella and a band of their friends, including Rodolphus' seventh-year dormitory fellows Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle. The shadowy flicker of light cast by the low-burning fire creates a menacing atmosphere which I try to dispel with a bright greeting to Bella. She merely rolls her eyes before asking me abruptly whether I have plans for the weekend, reminding me that it's a Hogsmeade weekend.

"Not as such…" I answer hesitantly. Bella opens her mouth but a voice from the other end of the sofa cuts across her.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind accompanying me, Andromeda?"

With a sinking feeling, I lean around Rabastan to stare at Fletcher as he continues.

"I only asked your sister whether you had plans; I wasn't expecting her to arrange them for me! But it doesn't matter. We'll leave together at ten o'clock on Saturday morning, is that alright?"

With Bella watching me expectantly, I can hardly make excuses not to go. I nod stiffly and Fletcher beams.

"Excellent!" He says happily. I slump back in my seat, thinking of the inevitable date at Puddifoot's and the awkwardness of trying to avoid being physically assaulted whilst remaining charming and friendly.

Excellent is not the word I would use.


	10. Chapter 10

_So, I realise that this is beyond unforgivable. It's a very late chapter and I'm a very bad writer. I'm sooooo so sorry! Please feel free to send me hate mail and leave horrible reviews. I deserve it. In my defence, life has been extremely hectic and I still have far too much on my to-do list to even really be doing this, but I love this story and I love writing it, despite appearances._

_Right, so this chapter might leave some of you frustrated and impatient. Do not fear! All is not lost. Wait till the next chapter and you'll see. OK? OK._

_JK Rowling is aaaallll over it. I claim nothing._

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I try to sneak out on Saturday morning. It's cowardly of me but I'm spurred on by the image of myself, Fletcher-free and enjoying a good browse through Hogsmeade by myself. If I can get past my date, I can leave him a note in the common room saying I'm sick and can't make it, then hide out in the bookshop until it's safe enough to make the excuse – if I were to bump into him - that I felt well enough to come into the village after all…

My plan fails, of course. I'm forced to crumple the note into my pocket when I almost walk straight into him at the bottom of the dormitory staircase at half past nine. He smiles arrogantly at me as he takes my hand to kiss it, apparently not noticing my own grimace of disappointment.

"Early, are we, Andromeda? So eager!" He teases as he tugs me towards the common room entrance. I mumble a reply, wondering if I should just plead illness and actually stay at school today. No, I decide; that would just be pathetic. Fletcher really isn't that bad at all. He's even nice in his own cocky, pompous way. Fixing a smile onto my face, I nod and add feeble comments as Fletcher talks about Slytherin's latest quidditch practice all the way down to the front doors. Apparently he's beater. I didn't even know he played.

As we step out of the doors into the weak sunlight and frosty cold of the autumn morning, my wandering attention is caught by a flash of muted gold; Ted is walking with a mixed group of Hufflepuffs, barely thirty feet in front of us. Uneasy, I falter on the bottom step. The movement draws Fletcher's attention and he turns to give me a questioning look.

"Are you alright?"

"Um… yes, of course. I just… yes, I'm great."

I groan inwardly as he clasps my hand in his and turns to keep walking, pulling me with him.

"I know you're probably nervous, Andromeda, not being very experienced when it comes to romance…"

Oh, Merlin's beard.

"… but rest assured that I intend to make today as enjoyable as possible for us. I think it's a wonderful opportunity to get to know each other, don't you?"

"Yes… I'm sure we'll become even better friends after today," I try to hint. Unfortunately, he seems to interpret my words in entirely the wrong way. Turning to me, I see he has a knowing smirk on his face.

"Oh yes, Andromeda… I'm sure we'll end up being _very_ close friends."

I really have no polite response to that.

Luckily Ted doesn't notice us behind him and his friends all the way into town, as he's too busy joking around. Their laughter floats back to us, earning scathing looks from Fletcher. I watch them head into the Three Broomsticks and think irritably to myself that Lorita will undoubtedly be happy to see Ted. Not wishing to question why the barmaid annoys me so much, I tug on Fletcher's sleeve as he makes to lead me into the pub too, telling him I'd rather get a coffee. He gives me that knowing look again.

"Oh, you want to go to Puddifoot's?"

I grit my teeth but nod.

Once seated in the stiflingly warm and pink coffee shop I waste no time in ordering a large coffee and a generous slice of cake, hoping to postpone any conversation. Fletcher eyes me with a supremely confident grin as Madam Puddifoot bustles away with our order. Uncomfortable, I reach for my napkin to have something to fiddle with… only to find my hand once again ensnared in Fletcher's firm grip. He tugs my hand to rest with his in the centre of the table, where I regard it with mild horror.

"Andromeda," he purrs, drawing my wide eyes up to meet his. "I'm so glad we're here together right now. Do you feel the same way?"

"Um… well, Fletcher, I-"

He laughs lightly. "Don't look so worried. I'm willing to take things slow. You're a special girl, Andromeda."

He looks very earnest and my inner tension loosens a bit. He's really quite sweet, even if he annoys me most of the time. Squeezing his hand lightly, I lean forward and offer a gentle smile.

"That's good, Fletcher, I really appreciate it…"

The door opens, bringing with it a loud creak and a gust of cold air. I trail off mid-sentence as I glance up into widened dark eyes.

At first I think Ted's alone and for some reason I feel relieved to see him, thinking for a mad moment that he can help me out of my situation with Fletcher… and then I notice Rhonda Jeffries next to him, and my mind stalls. She's giggling and shaking back her strawberry-blonde waves, but his eyes are fixed on Fletcher and I in what looks like shock. As I watch, though, they narrow into annoyance, then go strangely blank and slide away from me. He leans forward and murmurs something into Jeffries' ear; she turns and smiles flirtatiously at him, then sashays over to the secluded table in the corner. I have a perfect view of it from where I'm sitting. I stare at Jeffries, feeling an odd pressure building in my head, as she slides into the chair facing the wall. Ted is at the counter but I can see her shooting him glances from under her lashes.

I become aware that Fletcher is speaking and focus on him with an effort. He's chatting away about the Malfoy ball – oh, Merlin – and the prospect of him asking me floods my mind with panic, almost distracting me from Ted and his little date. I watch with alarm as _my _date brings his other hand onto the table so that mine is trapped between both of his.

"Andromeda, I know we said we'd take things slow…"

Movement catches my fear-glazed eyes; Ted is turning from the counter slightly and it's obvious from his cocked head and frown of concentration that he's eavesdropping on my conversation.

"… but I think that now would be a good time to ask you…"

Madam Puddifoot is sliding two steaming pink mugs across the counter to Ted; he deposits some money onto the counter and picks up the drinks, making his way towards his table which puts him very close to where Fletcher and I are sitting…

"… would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the Malfoys' Spring Ball in March?"

Ted falters slightly as he passes us and for an infinitesimal moment, my eyes meet his. Jeffries' pinkish-gold hair stings my peripheral vision; she's twisted round to watch Ted with possessive eyes.

"Andromeda?"

I look back at Fletcher and my mouth opens, almost of its own accord.

"Yes."

Suddenly, Ted has sped up and reached his own table and Fletcher is looking halfway between smug and overjoyed.

"Excellent. I know we'll have a wonderful time."

"Yes…" I repeat weakly. Madam Puddifoot appears at that moment with a small tray hovering in mid-air beside her. She babbles apologies about the delay as I stare at the lace tablecloth, feeling horrible for saying yes to Fletcher. I don't even like him, really, and I thought I had made up my mind not to encourage him further. What am I doing? I attack my rich and comforting chocolate cake with miserable enthusiasm, wishing that I was alone with it in my warm bed, perhaps with a good book to distract me from my own idiocy. Fletcher has leaned back to sip his drink, making occasional remarks about Slytherin's chances in the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. I know I'm not required to respond –beyond nodding - as I'm eating, so I let my gaze drift across to Ted and Jeffries.

It's a disturbing sight. She's offering him her hot chocolate, laughing as he tries to fish the marshmallow out with his spoon. He grins at her and makes some comment that appears to amuse her further still. They look cosy and natural together and it makes me grit my teeth. I shovel some more chocolate ganache into my mouth as I mentally compare Ted and Jeffries with Fletcher and myself. I'm practically ignoring him and it doesn't even appear to bother him. I'm suddenly ridiculously annoyed that this, my first proper date, is so one-sided and unromantic. More than that, I'm annoyed at the realisation that it's mostly my fault. I've never given Fletcher a chance because I've been so convinced that I must dislike him. Maybe if I put in some effort, I could actually enjoy myself. I'm attending a bloody ball with him anyway… I may as well try and get to know him. As I swallow my chocolate cake and watch Jeffries offer Ted the marshmallow from her own spoon, the annoyance and regret inside me builds then hardens into grim and unheeding resolve. I turn back to Fletcher, who is taking another sip from his mug. Scooping up another forkful of cake, I smile into his eyes and hold it out to him.

"Care to try some? It's good," I tell him in a considerably warmer voice than any I have ever used with him. He sits up straight, looking surprised and a little delighted as he eats the cake off of the fork.

"Delicious," he tells me with a rakish grin.

"Good," I grin back. I can't quite help myself; glancing behind him at Ted, I see that the latter is scowling at the tablecloth whilst Jeffries chatters away.

"Do you want to get out of here? Get a butterbeer?" I ask my date, who agrees enthusiastically. I scoff the last of my cake as Fletcher lays the money on the table, predictably refusing when I try to pay my half. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor until we're out on the street.

I actually do have a nice time for the rest of the day, chatting over a butterbeer in the Broomsticks and then helping Fletcher choose a new quill from Scrivenshaft's. I keep the flirting very low-key and wish there was some way to rescind my agreement to attend the Malfoy ball with him, but I guess that's something I'll have to just deal with. Maybe, if Fletcher gets his way and we end up together, it wouldn't be so bad. At least, that's what I half-heartedly tell myself. I don't think of Ted and Jeffries because I want to hex something every time I do, presumably because of their superiority as a couple to Fletcher and I. That must be it. I don't want to think about it anyway.

It's about half past two when we make our way out of the village and up the road towards the front gates. Fletcher is being his usual overly charming self, thanking me profusely for coming out with him and waxing lyrical about what a wonderful time he's had. Anyone would think we went to the Quidditch World Cup, rather than a few overpriced shops. I'm beginning to get a slight headache but I smile and giggle and agree with him, being mindful to keep my hands in my pockets to avoid awkward hand-holding.

Once we arrive back at the common room, I bid him thanks and goodbye in a loud voice, already backing away, because I just know he's going to try and kiss me. I'm starting to feel twinges of guilt for leading him on, but it's so dangerously easy to do with Fletcher, who seems to take the slightest smile or friendly word as encouragement. I only really meant to be nicer to him but he seems on the verge of a proposal. This last thought drives me up the stairs to my dorm before he's even finished saying goodbye.

I'm dreading Charms Extension, which is before lunch the next day. I'm expecting Ted to be a little cool with me but he treats me like a stranger, avoiding eye contact and only addressing me when necessary. I can feel his eyes on me sometimes but I can never seem to catch his gaze. Flitwick has to hurry off ten minutes early but tells us to keep practising our synchronised _Galvanis _charms until lunch is ready.

It's ridiculously awkward. Ted is still refusing to properly acknowledge me and that old anger, that a muggle-born can treat me like an equal – or less – rises up in me again. I'm suddenly boiling with indignation at the whole situation and furious with myself for treating him with such respect and interest, like a friend. It's unacceptable and dangerous and if he wants Jeffries, he can have her, I couldn't care less. Just to show how little his rudeness bothers me, I give up on charming the teaspoon in front of me to waltz with the pencil next to it and pipe up into the silence:

"Lovely day yesterday, wasn't it?"

He visibly tenses but answers in a neutral tone.

"Yes, nice weather."

"No, I mean the trip to the village. Nice to be there on a _proper_ Hogsmeade trip."

"Yep."

Something inside me snaps. This is it, then. Whatever it is that I've foolishly allowed to grow up between Ted Tonks and myself over the last three weeks, it ends here. I hear the sound of chatter echoing from the Great Hall and stand up, scooping my books into my arms and pretending to myself that I don't feel slightly nauseous.

"Lunchtime," I inform Ted over my shoulder as I walk out, determinedly not looking back.


	11. Chapter 11

_Alright, this is going to be a lengthy A/N so bear with me._

_Firstly, thank you all so much for sticking with this story and supporting and encouraging me so much. Your reviews mean so much to me._

_Now, about this chapter: this is a double-length chapter because it just turned out that way. Bonus reading! YAY! So yeah, set aside double the time to read it. Also, the climactic scene in this chapter is the scene that first kicked this story off for me, and I'm ashamed to say that I stole it, or at least appropriated it. I can't remember the name of the fic that I got the basic plot for this scene from, but if anyone recognises it then please tell me so I can message the author and apologise for not crediting them with the inspiration for this whole fic. Because the whole story so far – including most of this chapter - has just been me building up to the moment when I could write this particular scene the way I first imagined it like a year ago._

_OK, right, so I hope you like this chapter. I'm a bit nervous about it so be kind._

_JK Rowling owns the entire Harry Potter universe. I'm only borrowing._

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Ted and I are nothing but coolly professional for the rest of the term. We attend Charms Extension together, regularly share patrol duties and occasionally confer over Prefect duties, rosters and activities. We always interact in a civil, polite and somewhat detached manner and we never, ever speak to each other outside of class or Prefect matters. Ted and I have become what we always should have been, but it's accompanied by a heavy, suffocating tension that never seems to ease.

On the other hand, my relationship with Fletcher – after some firm decision-making by me as I lay in bed in the early hours of the morning - has reached a new stage and an understanding of sorts. We attend every Hogsmeade weekend together, often sit together at meals and I sometimes help him study for his OWLs. I still can't say I would like him much if I didn't work at it – his sense of self-importance really is staggering, and even though it doesn't actually bother me personally, I feel indignant that he checks out other girls so much – but he's certainly sufferable. I suppose we are a couple, although I can't say I really identify myself as his girlfriend, or think of him in my own head as my boyfriend. We've kissed, but only a handful of times. Fletcher calls me a prude and his friends call me something best not repeated, but I'm not even slightly concerned and not especially impressed with the whole kissing thing.

The most important development is my family's pride and delight that I have a rich, handsome, highly esteemed – by himself, but I digress – pureblood suitor, who I can show off to all my parents' peers at the Malfoy ball. Bella now treats me like a close friend rather than an embarrassing little sister, whilst Cissy actually looks up to me and comes to me for advice… not that I'm very helpful. Perhaps the best thing, though, the thing that made it all worth it – the gossiping, flirting and remodelling – was the news from Bella that Mother is personally overseeing the design of my brand new debut gown for the ball. This is an implication of my parents' shifting opinion of me. During the holidays, Mother carelessly told me that getting me my own debut dress would be a waste of time as no one ever notices me anyway. I could just wear my old dress that I have for special occasions and dinner parties. I wasn't really aware, at the time, of how much that had upset me, because to be honest I was very much used to this attitude. Now, though… now I'm not the disappointment any more. And that's surely worth everything.

So I have achieved my vision of myself that was born at the beginning of the school year, a vision that holds no space for even thinking of Ted Tonks. Unfortunately, the situation with Ted can never quite seem to rest easy with me and thinking of him is something I seem annoyingly prone to doing.

In mid-October Hufflepuff had its first quidditch match, against Gryffindor. I shouldn't have even been there since less than half my house attended and Fletcher wasn't going, but I told myself that I needed some fresh air and found myself clambering up the rickety steps to the Slytherin stands. I searched for a familiar face and sagged with relief when I spotted Martine's sleek light brown hair near the end of a row.

Sliding in next to her, I smiled and made up some rubbish about quidditch having grown on me. Martine is Seeker on the Slytherin team and never misses a match; besides appreciating the game, she informed me that day, she rather enjoys the sight of the male players in uniform. I had to laugh; I've always quite liked Martine, outspoken though she is. And she's right, I realised as we watched the players march out onto the pitch; it's a pretty flattering look on most of the guys, and downright sexy on others. Not liking where my eyes were lingering amongst the Hufflepuff team, I glared down at my gloved hands and jumped slightly when Martine's voice sounded right in my ear.

"Merlin, that Tonks bloke might be a bloody badger, but his arse doesn't look half bad, does it?"

"What?!"

At that moment, thankfully, the whistle blew. I still couldn't follow half the rules but I found myself riveted, watching every moment of the game with a heavy focus on the Hufflepuff goalposts that I'm certain was due to my natural wish to see Gryffindor beaten, smug and over-confident as they are. At one point a bludger zoomed towards the Hufflepuff posts and collided with a sickening crack; I was only aware that I'd jumped up when I found myself on my feet. The small black cannon had hit the side of the middle hoop, however, leaving no one injured. I left as soon as the game ended, having no idea who had won.

Since then, I'm sure Ted has been catching my eye slightly more than usual, but I refuse to entertain the notion that he spotted me in the stands. Even if he did, so what? I told him that I'd be attending more games this year.

Today being a Monday, I spend the morning tutoring Louisa patiently and it's not until I overhear Bernard Goswell, at the next desk, exclaiming about his plans for a Christmas party that I realise it's the end of term; we go home on Friday, for over two weeks. I want to feel elated at the thought but realistically, I know that it's too early to expect a drastic change in the way my parents treat me. Still, we're on our way.

The next evening towards the end of Charms Extension, Flitwick informs us that today is our last lesson this year as he's leaving on Thursday, to spend Christmas with family. Then he says perhaps the most unwelcome thing that I have ever heard come out of anyone's mouth.

"I feel, children," he begins, "that although you are doing remarkably well, extra practice is required if you are to be as well prepared as possible for your Charms NEWTs. I have therefore set up two sets of portkeys throughout the Christmas holidays; one on the twenty-third of December and one on the twenty-eighth of December. Each set consists of two portkeys in locations convenient to you both respectively, at ten o'clock in the morning, and a second pair at two o'clock in the afternoon which will return you to those locations. The ten o'clock portkeys will bring you to this antechamber here at Hogwarts. I expect you, within those allotted hours, to have mastered the Disillusionment Charm to such a degree that you can perform at least a rudimentary Disillusionment. I feel that this will allow us to move much faster once term commences next year. Alright?"

I swallow as Flitwick looks at me expectantly. There is no way I want to be alone with Ted, in a situation where I have to communicate with him and help him and ask help from him. No way!

"Yes, sir."

But it's not like I have much of a choice.

"Mr Tonks? Is that agreeable to you?"

Ted looks about as reluctant as I feel, perhaps even more so, and this makes me grind my teeth in anger. Stupid git. Just because he's already mastered the charm, doesn't mean he has to look like spending time practising it with me is worse than a life sentence in Azkaban. It's so insulting.

"Yes, sir, it's fine with me."

Liar. But I have no time to shoot him filthy looks, as Flitwick announces the end of the lesson and bids us goodbye, handing us both pieces of parchment with the portkey details and lists of helpful books and tips. I storm out of the Great Hall as soon as we leave the antechamber and, making my way straight to my dorm, throw myself onto my bed and glare daggers at the canopy. My mood is not improved when, ten minutes later, I check my patrol roster and realise I have prefect duty with Ted tomorrow night. Curse it…

The next day dawns bright and cold. Whitish sunlight streams onto my pillow, mocking me for my black mood the day before. I'm overreacting, I decide. Having to endure Ted during the holidays is annoying, yes, but I'm not making things better by dwelling on that. I decide to take a more positive approach and see it as a chance to prove to myself, once and for all, that I'm capable of having a civil and professional relationship with a muggle-born without turning it into some kind of friendship or… whatever. Yes. Good.

The day goes by smoothly; the teachers are feeling the end-of-term laziness just as much as the students, apart perhaps from McGonagall, but that's nothing new. I secretly quite admire the stern, somewhat ageless witch, but she's head of Gryffindor which is easily my least favourite of the houses so I can't bring myself to admit that she's not so bad.

I spend my time until dinner with Fletcher, Louisa and that Ulrika girl… I'm sure it's Ulrika. Fletcher slings his arm around my shoulders on the sofa and I feel a natural urge to lean into him, but something in me keeps me staying stiffly where I am, chatting mostly to Louisa. It doesn't stop him playing with my hair or cutting into my conversation at every opportunity. I think I could set him on fire and he'd just tell me suavely how pretty my eyes look in the light of the flames, probably still whilst trying to look down my shirt. He's really quite remarkably persistent and it makes me want to hex him sometimes.

After a lingering dinner watching Lucius Malfoy trying to capture the interest of my relentlessly coy little sister, I meander back up to my dorm and read a stray copy of the _Daily Prophet _that Danielle left lying on the floor. It's about fifteen minutes until I need to be at patrol when my mother's distinctively huge great owl, Nebula, swoops onto the windowsill outside and fixes me with his ever-superior gaze. Intrigued as to why my mother would want to contact me so close to the end of term and worrying briefly that something's happened to Father, I hurriedly let him in and take the letter he thrusts towards me.

_Andromeda,_

_I am writing to inform you of mine and your father's pride and pleasure in hearing that you are being courted by Fletcher Parkinson. As you are undoubtedly aware, young Fletcher comes from an excellent family and we look forward to your introducing him to us. _

_It has been hastily arranged, but we are holding a small New Year's Day dinner with some guests; please ensure that Mr Parkinson receives an invitation from you before term ends. It would not be polite to invite him by owl when you can do it in person._

_Heed my advice and do not waste this opportunity. An eligible young man is difficult to secure and it is important that you do secure a good match. He will move on fast if you do not maintain his interest. You deserve a decent suitor, Andromeda. Never forget that you are a Black._

_Mother._

I spend several minutes staring at the letter in disbelief. She's written to me. Not since my second year, when it became clear that I wasn't making important friends and connections anytime soon, have either of my parents written to me. Not only that, but the letter isn't to scold me, or to let me know that something has happened, or to tell me how much better than me my sisters are. It's a letter of pride and of praise.

For me, it's a letter of hope.

A slow smile spreads over my face as I read that last line: _Never forget that you are a Black. _Yes, I am. At last.

Practically skipping down the stairs and out of the common room, I wave a cheery greeting to Narcissa as I pass her leaning against the wall in the corridor outside.

"Almost curfew, Cissy," I remind her in a mock-stern voice. She regards me coolly and informs me that she's well aware of that and shouldn't I be on patrol with whatever mudblood they've paired me up with? I agree that yes, I should, and continue on to the Entrance Hall.

Ted is waiting patiently by the house hourglasses and my mood only brightens as I observe that emeralds are far more abundant than rubies, sapphires or yellow diamonds. Smiling because I can't quite help it and I'm on some kind of happiness high, I indicate that he should lead the way. He gives me a look of puzzlement but complies, beginning the trudge around the main ground floor corridor that will lead us back to the Entrance Hall. He shoots my small smile glances as we walk. By the third floor, after I've managed to school my expression, he seems to shrug it off and ignores me once more, so I allow myself to slip into a daydream of a shining future in which my parents respect me, see me as someone to be proud of, talk about me to their friends and introduce me to interesting people at parties. My mother might start to worry about what I wear, like she does with Cissy, and my father might actually talk to me at the dinner table, like he does with Bella.

It's not until Ted and I reach the fifth floor that I'm wrenched out of my fantasies; we turn a corner and almost walk on top of a young Ravenclaw girl, either third or fourth year, obviously trying to sneak back to her tower. Ted immediately begins to question her and seems set to take off twenty points but I wave a hand airily, seeing the curly dark locks and pale face and thinking indulgently of myself at her age. I take off five points and send her on her way. Ted stares at me in surprise as she scurries off.

"Why are you in such a good mood, then?"

I beam at him. "I just am. It's a nice evening, don't you think?"

He chuckles. "I'd forgotten how weird you were, Dromeda."

"Don't you start calling me stupid names again," I laugh as we fall back into step along the corridor. Deep in my mind, there are alarm bells going off, but my feeling of triumph and elation at my mother's letter seems to have imbued me with supreme confidence. I turn to Ted and say impulsively: "I don't like how odd it's been between us. We used to be friends, Ted."

He brings us to a halt, turns and looks down at me, a frown line between his eyebrows.

"Did we?"

I ignore my increasing sense of unease and plough on.

"Yes, I think so. Didn't we?"

He glances at the ground, edging slightly closer and I catch that familiar smell of spiced apples. All at once I'm a little scared. I shouldn't have said anything.

"I don't know," he says slowly, meeting my eyes with the frown line etched ever deeper between his own. I swallow and look away. When he speaks again, he sounds frustrated.

"You came to my quidditch game, ages ago now. I saw you in the stands."

"I've been to the two quidditch games since as well, Ted."

"Yeah, but your boyfriend played in both of those." His voice has become noticeably sharper.

"What's your point?" I snap, dragging my eyes back up to his and narrowing them. He's slightly flushed but looks angry, which probably doesn't bode well for me.

"Why? Why'd you come to that game, when I know that you hate quidditch and you hate Gryffindor, and you probably hate Hufflepuff too and I'm bloody well aware that you hate me, Dromeda. I mean, you certainly act like you do half the time. What am I supposed to think when I know all that and yet you're there, at my game, watching me, then standing here asking to be friends?"

I open my mouth and close it again, rooted to the spot and floundering for an answer. I don't know why I went to that game and I don't know why I'm trying to bridge the gap between us now. And I certainly don't have a valid excuse ready.

"I… I don't know," I tell him in a small voice. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking as lost as I feel, so I decide that I might as well keep being honest and open with him.

"I felt like I ought to be there. There wasn't anywhere else I wanted to be. So I went. It's just a quidditch game."

His tone is sharp. "That would make sense if you had any interest in quidditch."

My hands curl into fists and I lean towards him, raising my voice.

"Why are you making this difficult?"

"Because I don't know what 'this' is! It's been months since we've had a proper conversation and I still don't have a clue where I stand! You can't seem to make up your bloody mind either."

"Yes, I can!"

"Well, have you? Is Fletcher Parkinson it? Because if you ask me, you don't look exactly head-over-heels when you're with him."

"That is none of your business, Ted, but of course I'm happy with Fletcher. He's sweet and funny and kind and-"

"He's none of those things," Ted says in disgust. "But I'll tell you what he is; he's a pureblood."

I know what he's getting at, somewhere in my mind, but I'm too busy being furious to back off.

"So?"

"Isn't that the criteria? The single most important thing to you lot?"

"How dare you- that is so-"

I start to back away slightly without even realising what I'm doing. He grabs hold of my upper arms then, his brown eyes bright with a kind of desperation. His hands are shockingly warm and their strength makes me feel weak and small by comparison.

"Please, Dromeda, I need you to make this clear for me. I know you're with Parkinson and I'm with Marlene-"

"Marlene?" I interrupt. He stares at me. His hands tighten yet his voice is suddenly quite calm.

"Yes, we're dating as of last week."

"Marlene Jones, the prefect? You're _with _her?" I say, glowering at him. But I don't get a verbal response.

Instead, Ted kisses me.

For the first several milliseconds, my brain is too shocked to do anything but catalogue sensation; his open palms sliding up to hold just below my jaw, his fingers threading through my hair, the slight tickling as my hair tugs against my scalp. More immediately, his lips pressing against mine, warm and dry and very firm, yet softer than normal skin. They begin to move a second before I do, and my automatic response of pushing him away is abandoned as I struggle to make sense of it all. His mouth opens slightly and then, perhaps because of my lack of response, he pulls away…

And suddenly I'm kissing him back, lurching forward on tiptoes and curling my hands into the front of his jumper, applying the meagre experience I've had with Fletcher in the way I vary pressure and angle and really, I have no idea what I'm doing. But Ted seems to and the way he drops one hand to the small of my back to keep me close while he takes over the kiss leaves me quite reassured and a little breathless. I'm dizzy and far too warm and thinking is becoming increasingly difficult; all I can smell is those spiced apples. Sparks tingle through me as my breasts brush against Ted's chest. When did my hands creep up to his shoulders? Were they always so broad? Am I supposed to be opening my mouth like that? Is that his _tongue_?

I can't quite suppress a small moan and it surprises me, because up until now I've been so busy dissecting what's happening that I haven't properly noticed how good it feels. And it does feel good, if a little overwhelming. It's so different to kissing Fletcher… my scrambled brain asks dazedly why in Merlin's name I ever did kiss Fletcher, if this, if _Ted_, is the alternative…

The answer to that question slams into me with the force of a charging unicorn. My family. The letter. _Never forget that you are a Black._

Gasping, I wrench away and stumble back, hitting the wall and pressing dizzily into its rocky coldness. Ted is breathing a little fast, his eyes dark and shining, his hands still raised slightly as if to pull me back to him. That's what he's doing, I tell myself; he's trying to grab me, ensnare me, wrench me away from everything I care about with one stupid, brilliant kiss. Well, I won't let him. In the few seconds before Ted tries to speak, I allow the emotions roiling within me to solidify into rage and loathing and I'm not sure who I'm more angry with, but I'll assume it's him for now.

"Dromeda-"

"Get away from me!" I spit, edging along the wall as he steps towards me. His expression turns indignant.

"You kissed me back."

I explode at the truth of his statement, determined to cancel it out with my own fury, as I shriek at him: "You're disgusting! I would never kiss you, you filthy _mudblood_!"

There's a ringing silence after I say it. I see the flash of hurt in Ted's eyes and some echo of it strikes deep within my abdomen and I have to get away from here, I have to run.

So I do.

I have no idea if Ted is following me or not but I would guess not, as he's much faster than me and I don't hear the sound of pursuit all the way to the stairs at the end of the corridor. I think I see movement as I fly past a suit of armour, a portrait probably except it looks too low down, but I don't turn my head or slow down and then I'm throwing myself down the stairs, ducking into a passageway that will take me all the way down to the second floor and then down another that comes out near the kitchens. Terrified of the proximity of the Hufflepuff common room and the possibility that Ted might show up at any minute, I almost fall over my own legs sprinting up the stairs, across the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons, snaking through the familiar, frigid passageways until I reach my sanctuary.

The common room is busy enough that I doubt anyone notices me gasping for breath as I stagger through it. I hear Fletcher call my name but I ignore him and I don't look up until I'm sitting on my bed, curling up and drawing all the curtains around me.

And then I let myself cry.


	12. Chapter 12

_I've been putting it off and off because I usually don't post a chapter until I complete the one I'm working on, but I have severe writer's block (I'm on the last chapter, at least I think) and it doesn't seem fair to make you guys suffer with me. If in fact anyone is still reading this fic… wouldn't blame you guys for giving up on me!_

_This is the only chapter of the story that doesn't directly feature Ted. I suppose I wanted a little break for Dromeda after the drama of the last chapter. Sorry if you don't like this one but I quite enjoyed writing it, so I hope you do like it._

_Thanks so much for sticking with me if you are still reading! You all rock my rarely-worn socks._

_*Yoda voice* Own this, I do not._

_Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oo_

The rocking motions of the train are soothingly monotonous, easing some of the tension from my neck and shoulders. I'm hoping that home, the pompousness and the lack of heating and the fussing of our house elves, will for once be an environment in which I can relax. It feels like an age since I've actually relaxed.

I chance a glance at Cissy opposite me. She's been a little odd around me since yesterday, staring at me all the time but barely responding if I speak to her. As if I don't have enough to make me anxious, without worrying about the sanity of my little sister too. At least Bella is as superior and presumptuous as ever.

"Missing dear Fletcher already, Andromeda?"

I roll my eyes inwardly but give Bella a blank look. She continues unperturbed.

"Don't worry; you'll see him at New Year's. I invited him in case you forgot or something. Can't have you missing opportunities just as you're becoming normal."

"Thanks."

Bella misses the sarcasm and gives me a gracious smile. I shoot a weary look at Cissy, who quickly glances away when I meet her eyes.

Maybe going home won't be quite so therapeutic, if these two are going with me.

A wave of depression overcomes me as I reflect that even with the oddities of my family I'm relieved – for the first time ever - to be leaving Hogwarts. The last two days have been excruciating; avoiding Ted has been my almost obsessive mission and whilst I'm sharing a castle with him, even a big one, it's been fraught with difficulty. At least at home I'm guaranteed some Ted-free space and therefore slightly more confusion-free space… at least until the 23rd. But I'd rather not think about that.

I stay huddled quietly in our compartment, not even looking at the door until we pull into King's Cross. I then linger as long as possible, having to be practically dragged out of the train by Bella and Rodolphus. I scan the crowd frantically, feeling a little ridiculous but unable to help myself… my stomach swoops unpleasantly as I spot it, a familiar blonde head not fifteen feet away. Despite the slightly panicky sensation I feel when I think of Ted, I keep an eye on him, trying to direct my sisters away from that area of the platform. Unfortunately Bella has other ideas.

"I see Father! Andromeda, for Merlin's sake stop tugging on my sleeve like a child. Come on, Cissy."

Horrified, I can only stumble forward and hope that we're hidden by the crowd. I don't look up even when we reach Father and I barely mumble a reply to his stiff greeting.

"Andromeda, stand up straight when your father speaks to you, and answer properly."

My head shoots up in disbelief and I'm sure I must be imagining things, but no… it really is Mother, standing primly in her embroidered green robes and surveying the platform with distaste. She hasn't come to collect us from the platform more than twice in all the time I've been at Hogwarts.

"Mother! What are you…? I mean, how are you?"

"Tired. I would not have come, but I wished to say hello to young Mr Parkinson and his parents."

Bella shoots me a significant look and even Cissy looks interested. My mind struggles to comprehend this development, but even with the strain it's been under of late it informs me that my mother's interest in Fletcher is really interest in me. She's come here for me.

For the first time in two days, a genuine smile breaks across my face.

We Floo home as briskly as Mother's impatience dictates. I barely have time to feel relieved that I avoided any awkward encounters on the journey to London because Tippy and Latcher, our family's house elves, bustle about serving a meal and collecting our laundry as soon as we step away from the fireplace. Despite my mother's remarkable behaviour in coming to King's Cross, neither she nor Father show any further interest in me beyond the usual polite 'how was your term?'. To be honest, I'm more in the mood to go straight to bed after dinner anyway.

Unfortunately, the holidays do not appear to equal a break from Ted for me. Less than half an hour after I've gone to bed, just as I feel like I might be able to actually drift off to sleep, a gentle knock comes at my door. I groan into my feather pillow and then lift my head.

"Who is it?" I snap. There's a slight pause.

"It's Narcissa."

That wakes me up. Cissy's never come into my room at night, not even when she was a child.

"Come in."

Cissy cracks open the big door and candlelight spills through, seeping into the room and making me rub my eyes as I sit up. For a moment, with her light golden hair tumbled over one shoulder of her white nightgown, my baby sister looks almost angelic. It hits me, looking at her, how much of a beauty she's becoming. Suddenly I'm not surprised that Lucius Malfoy wants to marry her someday.

"Merlin, Andy, your hair is awful. Why don't you plait it or something? It's like an overgrown tree."

Maybe angelic is the wrong word.

"Don't call me Andy, it's a boys' name. And we can't all have smooth, perfect waves like you and Bella."

"Well, you never act like a proper girl so why call you a girls' name?"

"Curse it, Cissy, what do you want? I was hoping to get to sleep tonight at some point."

Cissy tosses that advertisement-worthy hair and shuts the door behind her, bringing the candle across to my bedside table and then settling herself stiffly on the edge of my bed. She doesn't look at me when she speaks.

"I saw that Tonks boy assault you."

My mind goes blank and then runs into overdrive. The first thought that hits me is confusion at her use of the word 'assault'. That seems wrong. Then I'm intensely irritated that I even care whether or not Cissy thinks the… the incident… was assault. Then I'm confused again, because it _was_ assault, wasn't it? It's not like I… I mean… oh, never mind. Cissy _saw_?

I mustn't be saying anything coherent, because Cissy speaks again a moment later.

"Well, I didn't see everything. I just came into the corridor and he was… but you pulled away and told him off and ran for it. I hid behind some armour and got my wand out in case he chased you, but he just leaned against the wall and stared after you, then turned around and walked off-"

"You were going to, what, defend me?" I interrupt in amazement. Cissy gives me a withering look.

"Of course. You're my family."

I want to hug her then, but there are more pressing matters.

"What were you doing out of the common room? Were you following me? Why would you do that?"

"Of course I wasn't following you. Patrol rounds aren't exactly entertaining to watch. Andy, you have to tell Dumbledore that the mudblood-"

"Don't-"I snap, but then I falter. "I mean… I… why were you out of bed then?"

Cissy looks away, fidgeting. Instantly I'm genuinely interested in the answer.

"Cissy?"

"I can't tell you. You're a prefect."

"And you're my family." I smile slightly. "I won't tell anyone, Ciss."

This is probably irresponsible of me, but I mean it. This new feeling of sisterly closeness is too precious to ruin with prefect-ness… also, I'm overly eager to calm myself by avoiding any discussion involving Ted. I'm rewarded for my lack of sense by a measuring look and a slight shifting closer.

"Well… it's nothing dangerous. It's actually a little business we have going."

"We?"

"There's a few of us. From different houses. We're all girls, all different ages."

I remember the young Ravenclaw we caught sneaking around. Now that I think about it, I've apprehended several girls out after curfew lately. "Is this like a club?"

Cissy sighs impatiently. "Don't be childish. It's like I said before. A business. We sell and trade things."

"Such as?"

"Just… things that some of the girls at Hogwarts want."

She's blushing now. This can't be as innocent as it sounds.

"What sorts of things though? Not textbooks, I imagine?"

Cissy shrugs delicately and shoots me a glance from under her translucent lashes.

"Cissy, come on, I won't tell anyone."

"Well... there are a few things that might not be approved of by Dumbledore. Some alcohol gets passed around with the older girls. And various spells and potions."

The picture is becoming clearer now.

"Love potions?"

Cissy's pale cheeks are now noticeably less pale. I shake my head in disbelief.

"Cissy, why would you need a love potion? You're only thirteen!"

"It's not a strong one! It's just to get someone to ask me to the Malfoy Ball. No one will otherwise and then I will be completely miserable! I want a proper partner this time, someone to escort me in and dance with me all night, because otherwise I'll feel like a child and Andy, I'm _not_ a child."

She looks so desperate and I want to laugh, but I'm afraid it will hurt her feelings.

"Have you used one yet?" I ask carefully. She shakes her head.

"But you have bought one?" I say tentatively. Cissy nods.

"I'm afraid you've wasted your money, Ciss. Are you blind? You don't need a love potion. Lucius Malfoy is planning to ask you. I'm surprised he hasn't already."

She shoots me a cynical look.

"I hardly think so, Andy. It's all I can do to keep up some kind of banter with him, but I don't think he'd be seriously interested in me. He's so handsome and for Merlin's sake, he's a _Malfoy_. Even I'm not enough of a dreamer to expect him to ask me."

"Trust me, Cissy, he's interested!"

"Don't be so silly! I didn't think you were a romantic."

"I'm not. He asked me what he should get you for a corsage. Cissy, he…"

Cissy has sat up straight, staring at me in growing excitement.

"What?" She demands. I hesitate, knowing that she can't possibly be anything but intimidated by the knowledge that she's been marked out as the possible future bride of Malfoy. Then again, this is Narcissa. Haltingly, I relate the boy's half-formed marriage plans. Her reaction is startling and a little frightening.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" She cries, eyes already misting over with visions of herself presiding over Malfoy Manor. I shudder, wondering how anyone can revel in their own lack of freedom or future. There's a voice in the back of my head asking what exactly I expect for myself that's so different to Cissy's aspirations. Just because I'm not planning to marry Fletcher, doesn't mean I won't end up with someone like him simply because they're a wealthy enough pureblood. I'm saved from these dark thoughts by my sister's nagging tone.

"Andy, you have to promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"That you'll tell Dumbledore about the Tonks mudblood. If you don't, I will. It's not acceptable for you to be alone with him like that if he's going to _attack_ you!"

"Merlin, Narcissa, it's none of your business. He won't do it again, alright?" I snap. She looks like she's about to argue so I blurt out something decidedly unsisterly. "If you don't drop it, and promise you won't tell anyone, I'm going straight to Dumbledore about your little trading business."

Cissy responds to this with some insults that I certainly wouldn't have come up with at thirteen, but the outburst is mercifully short and she storms out less than a minute later, leaving me to dread the 23rd December in peace.


	13. Chapter 13

_It's time for Dromeda to face the music! Bit of a cliffy at the end of this chapter so I'll try to get the next chapter to you pronto. I think – maybe – that I've finished the final chapter. Idk. Having a bit of writer's block I guess. It's all written but I'm not sure that I like it. Decisions, decisions._

_Anyhoo, hope you all like it and thank you so much for reading, it really puts a smile on my face knowing that people like this coz I think it's sooooo slow-moving but apparently that's just how I tell stories. Snail's pace. Same as everything else I do, lol._

_This is a disclaimer. It means I have no claim to the world and characters I'm writing about. How depressing._

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo o_

Even at five to ten in the morning the ground is hard and frosted, the fields draped in mist. My portkey is near the end of our country lane, just around the corner from where the obscurity of the magically disguised carriage track joins the sinister unfamiliarity of a muggle road, complete with bus stop. The battered muggle magazine is almost completely hidden under the hedge and my breath puffs out in front of me as I lean down to tug it free. I stare moodily at the pouting, unmoving model on the front; she seems to be dressed as a man, but without the trousers. Or is that a house elf tunic?

I'm distracted from these ruminations by the sudden jerk behind my navel. Must be ten o'clock... oh, Merlin.

Seconds later, I touch down in the little antechamber, landing on the balls of my feet to absorb the impact. I shift backwards to lean against the wall and try to somehow prepare myself for what is coming. Hopefully we won't get off to too awkward a start…

There's a whirl of movement in front of me and an alarmed cry, right before I find myself pinned to the wall by a warm, heavy weight and an all-too-familiar scent.

"Ted!" I shriek as he pushes himself off the wall and staggers backwards, babbling apologies and blushing furiously.

"I'm sorry, I'm so clumsy and I'm not used to portkeys, I'm sorry, oh God, and I so wanted to be smooth today…" he mumbles, running his hands through his hair and looking utterly miserable. I feel an insane urge to smile and quickly walk past him. Over my shoulder, I tell him I'm going to get a pile of books and that he should get all the candles lit in the antechamber.

By the time I arrive back, Ted has lit up every candle in the room and I can see him far more clearly. He's wearing jeans, a muggle garment that's always struck me as being both practical and flattering. They suit him. I falter slightly, staring at him as I enter the room then quickly glancing away when he looks up.

"Right, so I got all the books that Flitwick mentioned," I say loudly, unwilling for there to be any tension in the room. Oddly, I feel no anger towards Ted and I just want to get on with things as painlessly as possible. Unfortunately he seems to have other ideas.

"Dromeda…"

"You already know the disillusionment charm, yes?" I cut across him with something like desperation. He surveys me with a troubled look on his face, then sighs and nods his head.

"Then you don't need to be here, you know. Go for a walk if you like. The house-elves will probably make you something to eat, if you can find one."

He looks unhappy but nods slowly.

"OK. I'll be back soon though."

I make no response and wait until the door shuts before flopping into a chair and letting out a long, unsteady breath. It could have gone a lot worse, I tell myself firmly. Maybe we can just act like last week never happened. Maybe. Shaking my head, I throw myself into researching and practising the spell.

It's over an hour later when the door creaks open again, making me jump. Ted backs in carrying a tray with a jug and two glasses on it. I give him a questioning look as he sets it on the table in front of me.

"Pumpkin juice… I thought you might have been getting thirsty," he says.

"Oh. Thank you," I say, unsure of how else to respond. Why must he always say and do things designed to disconcert me? Ted pours two glasses and sits down opposite me, eyes downcast as he takes a gulp of his juice. He looks thoughtful. I take a sip of my own drink but before I can so much as put my glass back down, he speaks.

"Dromeda, I feel like we ought to talk about what happened last week."

The glass lands on the table slightly harder than I meant it to. Ted fixes me with a steady gaze, which I only meet for a second or two before glancing away.

"Well, I don't have anything I want to say, except…" I pause and bite my lip. He leans forward.

"Yes?" he prompts gently. I sigh.

"I'm sorry I called you a… a you know what."

I'm not even sure why I'm apologising; I shouldn't be, but it's done now. Ted looks surprised but smiles slightly.

"That's OK. Doesn't really bother me that much now."

"Well, it bothers me," I snap. He cocks his head to one side.

"Why did you say it then?"

"Because… I don't know, because I was shocked and you took me by surprise and I just blurted it out. I wasn't a nice thing to say, and-"

"So what you're saying," interrupts Ted with twinkle in his eye, "is that you'd prefer me to kiss you with due warning next time?"

My mouth drops open as all the blood in my cheeks reaches boiling point. Ted appears to be enjoying himself immensely, the git. I splutter in outrage as he smiles at me innocently.

"Of course not, you… you total… oh Merlin, you have _no _shame, do you? It's not funny!"

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Of course it's not," he says, "but Dromeda, if I didn't laugh, I would cry."

With that, he leans over and pulls my notes towards him. I remain frozen in my seat as he surveys them.

"I think you're pretty ready to try the charm out now," he announces. His stomach rumbles suddenly.

"Well, after lunch anyway," he amends. He looks up at me and contrition flickers across his face.

"Sorry, Dromeda. Let's just forget about the whole thing for now, OK?"

It seems like the only chance I'll get to salvage my sanity for today, so I nod jerkily and try not to think about the way Ted spoke so casually of kissing me again. Kissing me. I've never even said the words in my head before now. A quiver runs through me and I tell myself firmly to get a grip.

Ted leads me out of the antechamber and across the Great Hall. I stop in my tracks halfway to the doors.

"How are we supposed to get lunch? They're not serving yet."

"From the kitchens."

"Students aren't allowed in the kitchens!"

"Yeah, but they make a special case for Hufflepuffs as we live right next door. Well, it seems that way anyway. Besides, we're prefects!"

I roll my eyes but I frankly can't be bothered to argue. I trudge after him, past the pile of barrels which I'm fairly sure hides the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, until we reach a decidedly unremarkable still life of some fruit. I raise my eyebrows at Ted. He leans close, making my breath hitch, and whispers:

"Tickle the pear."

"Wh- What?"

He chuckles into my ear and I frown, trying with difficulty to concentrate.

"The pear on the painting. Tickle it."

I step away, hoping that he hasn't lost his mind. Feeling ridiculous, I reach out with one finger and gingerly tickle the large pear in the painting. A giggling sound erupts and suddenly, the painting swings open. I grin triumphantly.

"Open sesame!" laughs Ted. I shoot him a puzzled look.

"Open what?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Never mind."

In the kitchen, the house elves don't appear even slightly surprised to have students in their midst. Within minutes of our arrival, we're seated at some stools by the fire with a bowl of casserole and a bread roll each. Somehow, despite the ridiculous awkwardness that should be produced by our situation, we manage to settle into a friendly debate about who has the best common room. It doesn't seem like very long afterwards when we leave the kitchen to go back to the antechamber, expecting to find the Great Hall halfway through lunchtime. Instead, we find it almost empty. Ted checks his watch and curses softly.

"It's almost twenty past one. We've been gone over an hour and a half!"

"What?!" I yelp.

"Sorry, Dromeda, I should have kept an eye on the time…"

"Oh Merlin, I've barely even practised the spell yet!"

Ted looks genuinely distressed and my annoyance lessens slightly.

"I should have realised too," I say grudgingly, before lapsing back into frantic mutters as I stride back to the antechamber. Ted hurries after me.

"It's OK, you'll learn it quicker because I'll be here to help you. You're a natural at Charms anyway. And you've got the 28th too. It'll be fine."

"Humph," is my only response as I push open the antechamber door. I gather up my notes and flick through them, making sure I have the incantation firmly embedded in my mind as well as the wrist movement. Whilst practising before lunch, I made a drop of wax from one of the candles turn the exact colour and wood grain pattern of the table beneath it, but that's not enough progress for what was meant to be almost four hours' work. I take a deep breath and place a book in the middle of the table.

"Take your time and visualise what you want the book to look like. Imagine it becoming part of the table," Ted offers from near the fireplace. I nod distractedly and concentrate. Saying the incantation clearly and calmly, I purposefully tap the book with the tip of my wand.

The book shimmers slightly, but doesn't change. I scowl with frustration.

"That's OK, I didn't get it first time eith-"

"Shush, Ted!"

The minutes tick by as I try again and again, referring back to my notes to make sure I have everything right. Finally, Ted can't take it anymore.

"Look, how about you actually let me help you instead of being stubborn all the time?" he snaps. I look up, taken aback by this rare display of irritation, and slowly nod. I should probably try for a little less pig-headedness.

"What am I doing wrong then?"

Ted raises his eyebrows, comes round the table and, before I can say or do anything, he's standing close behind me with his right hand over mine. I inhale sharply, feeling a little dizzy. His other hand very lightly rests on my shoulder. I'm trying to muster up a protest when he begins speaking into my ear, breath fanning my neck, and I completely forget what I was going to say.

"Just try to be gentler; perhaps don't use your whole arm so much. It's quite a delicate spell so it doesn't work with heavy-handedness."

As he speaks, his hand guides mine in a slow-motion arc, bringing my wand down towards the book.

"At the same time, though," he continues, "you need to establish a fairly firm connection between the wand and the object, so speed up a little as you bring the wand down closer. It needs to be controlled, OK?"

I nod slightly, managing to actually half-focus on what he's saying this time. I still feel on the verge of collapse, with a strange and nervous urge to giggle bubbling up from my stomach, although I can't say it's an unpleasant feeling. Ted brings my wand down sharply but stops short of whacking it against the book, bringing it to a smooth halt.

"Right, so now we try it with the incantation, and at the right speed. Ready?"

I swallow and nod again. Dragging the tatters of my concentration together, I take a deep breath and move my hand with Ted's, reciting the incantation in a slightly husky voice and focusing – mostly – on the image of a table with a book-shaped lump sinking into it.

The book vanishes.

I give a startled exclamation of relief, staring at the almost-discernible shadow of the textbook with elation.

"Brilliant!" Ted laughs in my ear. I spin around to beam at him and suddenly we're face to face, with his arms around me, and we've both fallen silent. My lips part as if to say something but nothing comes out. Time seems to pause for a little while before Ted speaks, his dark eyes locked on mine.

"Dromeda," he whispers seriously, "I did say I'd give you due warning next time."

My head spins. The kissing. He's talking about kissing. Kissing me.

"Y-yes, you did," is all I manage. He surveys me for a moment, and then a smile creeps into his eyes.

"Consider it given," he murmurs as he leans in towards me. His lips meet mine, and my head is suddenly blissfully clear because what else would I want to be doing? What have I wanted to do since I met him? My arms snake around his neck as I feel the table nudge the small of my back, and I smile against his lips. I can't quite remember what I was ever worried about. What could possibly go wrong, when I'm feeling this good?

The answer arrives seconds later, as I feel an abrupt jerk behind my navel. All I can do is shriek and cling to Ted as we're hurtled into nothingness.


	14. Chapter 14

_FINISHED. I've finished writing the fic. A few more chapters to post after this one and then I'm DONE. I'm not saying I'll never write about these two again, but IF I do it'll probs be set later in their lives, or just weird little one-shots. It's certainly hard, right now, to imagine NOT writing about them. I do know that I have no wish to write about Ted's death. Sob. _

_This is where I started to flounder slightly and I feel like the story gets dodgy from here on in. I hope not though._

_OH AND BTW: if anyone wants to draw anything from this story, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE go ahead and whack it on DeviantART or something and send me the link. I love fanart so much but I can't draw and it saddens me._

_Hopefully people know by now not to sue me. I'm not cool with being sued, guys._

_OK, this is directed at my star reviewer (although I love you all), Irony. I wanted to PM you but I can't, so in answer to your question I don't really see any actresses as Dromeda, but I'm fairly clear in my mind as to what she looks like. The girl on the 'cover' for this fic is actually pretty close… not quite delicate enough though. The hair is perfect, however. Curly and voluminous without being Hermione-crazy. The 'cinnamon' description for the eyes I shamelessly stole from another fic but I'm talking about the colour of the actual spice rather than the red-brown colour shade; I imagine her with amber eyes (yes, that's a legitimate colour). Basically she's Bellatrix but not quite as aesthetically beautiful and a little lighter in colouring. Tallish, slim, pale, aristocratic good looks. If it helps, for the Malfoy Ball scene in a couple of chapters I stole the hairstyle completely off of Belle from Disney's BATB. I'm curious now, though; who do you see as Dromeda?_

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

My feet slam onto wet grass and I shriek again as I slip over, pulling Ted with me as my arms are still entangled around his neck. He lands half on top of me, swiftly dealing with the little breath I have left.

"What the _hell_…?" I gasp into his shoulder. He rolls over onto his back with a groan. We seem to be lying in a small clearing, judging by the branches overhead and lack of background noise.

"Will nothing ever go right?" Ted mutters, seemingly to himself. Then he turns his head and looks at me apologetically. "My fault. I was wearing my portkey and as you were, well, all over me-" he smirks and I open my mouth indignantly, but he continues "- you got pulled along."

Ted holds up his hand and I see a metal ring-pull from a muggle-style can on his little finger.

"That was your portkey?"

"Yep."

I close my eyes in horror as the truth of the situation dawns on me. I'm stuck. I'm marooned in the back-end of muggle nowhere with Ted bloody Tonks, Merlin knows how far from anyone who can help me. I'm probably at the other end of the country from my home in Kent. I'm probably in Yorkshire or Wales or something. I sit up and lower my head into my hands.

"Ted," I say in a muffled voice. "Ted, where are we?"

"Oh, god, you probably live up North or something," he sighs. I raise my head hopefully.

"So we're in the South?"

"Outskirts of Burgess Hill, in Sussex?"

"Sussex? Brilliant, I'm in Kent! That's right next-door!" I exclaim, rising to my knees… only to fall back onto my heels in dismay. "Curse it, I still can't get home from here without help. I don't suppose you have an owl?"

Ted shakes his head ruefully. "I got a toad, but he escaped into our local duck-pond last year. I was meaning to get an owl these holidays."

"A toad? You actually bought a toad?"

Ted rolls his eyes and scrambles to his feet. He extends a hand to me.

"Let's try and get you home, yeah?" he says calmly. I take a deep breath and nod, letting him pull me upright. Wordlessly, he turns and leads the way through the trees. He doesn't let go of my hand and I stare at it, wrapped in his, as we walk. It's freezing cold and I'm only wearing my light indoor robes, with my warm cloak still in the antechamber at Hogwarts. I'm distracted suddenly by the sun in my eyes and meagre warmth on my skin; we've emerged from the trees into a small field with a children's' playground on the other side. I can hear distant traffic now and I frown, knowing that I'm in a completely muggle town, without the protection of my family, for the first time in my life. Ted squeezes my hand.

"It's alright, I live just up the road. Come on."

He tugs me through the playground and through a gate. I suddenly find myself on a fairly quiet street lined with boxy, identical houses and parked cars. A moving one zooms past and I skitter back, worried about the speed of these primitive muggle vehicles.

"S'OK, it's OK…" Ted murmurs as he begins up the street, pulling me along with him. I move closer to him and breathe deeply, looking away quickly as we pass an old man shuffling past.

We've only been walking for less than a minute when we come to a stop outside a narrow two-storey house fairly indistinguishable from the ones either side of it. There are no moving cars on this street, although I can see them whizzing by at the intersection at the end of the road. A woman walking her dog is the only real sign of life nearby.

"Very quiet here," I venture as Ted pushes open the small black metal gate for me. He nods.

"We moved here from the middle of town a few years back. Mum likes the quiet. She can do meditation in the back garden and she says there's less pollution in the air."

I stare at him blankly. He shrugs and leads me up the gravel path to the front door, fishing a small, neat, strangely square-looking key from his pocket. I swallow as he inserts it in the lock. There's an odd-looking Christmas wreath on the door; it's too green and crisp and it doesn't look quite real. I notice that Ted has let go of my hand and I flex my empty fingers nervously.

"Is your mother in?" I say in a strangely high-pitched voice.

"Yep, she only works part-time. Don't worry, she's very laid-back. I just need to borrow the car off of her and then we can get you home."

I start and bite my lip as I realise that I've almost forgotten about my predicament; instead, I'm overcome by anxiety at the thought of meeting Mrs Tonks. I push this to the back of my mind and toss my hair back, assuming a falsely confident air as we step into the house.

It's the oddest, most exotic place I've ever been. The walls are a light cream colour and are uniformly smooth; the carpet underfoot is a strange brown diamond pattern and continues up the narrow, straight stairs with their shockingly white wooden bannisters. Everything is neat and still and I can taste the lack of magic. I stare up at the static yellow glow from the light-globe overhead, feeling the unseasonal warmth in the air despite the lack of fireplaces, and wonder if my wand would even work here.

"Mum?" Ted calls into the silence, making me jump. I hear a woman's voice exclaim in reply and gulp, edging closer to Ted then stepping away again, annoyed at my reaction. My head snaps up at footsteps on the stairs and I stare in surprise at the woman who appears at the top. She looks nothing like the sinister muggle picture I had in my head. She's short and curvier than me with light olive skin and a friendly, open face. Her dark hair is scooped up into a bun on top of her head and she's wearing a loose, long-sleeved red tunic top with deep blue jeans rolled up at her calves. Her feet are bare. She beams at Ted and then turns her familiar cocoa-coloured eyes on me as she descends the stairs at a trot.

"Well, hello there. You must be one of Ted's magic friends, because I don't know you and you seem to be wearing something from the Middle Ages."

"Oh, god," Ted mutters from beside me. I stare at Mrs Tonks in amazement but she only winks at me and then extends her hand.

"I'm Ted's mother, you can call me Serena. It's lovely to meet you. What might your name be?"

"Andromeda…"

She whistles as she gently catches my hand in hers and shakes it.

"That's a mouthful. Cruel parents, hmm?"

I look at her sharply.

She laughs and shakes her head. "I was only joking. Don't mind me. You look a bit chilled, my love. Come into the kitchen and I'll get you a warm drink."

I follow her and her son cautiously through an open doorway into a completely alien room, with smooth shining surfaces and strange metal shapes and another light-globe on the ceiling, this time with a hideous sage green cone surrounding it.

"Make yourself at home," Serena calls over her shoulder as she pads with Ted into the centre of the frightening room. I spot a small wooden table with four chairs nearby and make a beeline for it, thankful for some familiarity. I feel a bit gormless but I can't think of anything to say. Serena comes over and deposits a plate of biscuits in front of me; I thank her and nibble one cautiously, relieved to find it tastes alright. I receive my tea a few moments later and cup my hands around it gratefully. Ted and his mother are murmuring together in the main part of the room but I can't be bothered to eavesdrop properly. Instead, I let my mind drift. I'm not surprised when it settles on the thing that I haven't yet had time to think about, the thing that, ordinarily, I would have been lying on my bed agonising over right now.

The kiss.

I can't quite believe that I let it happen again. A part of me is still feebly outraged and trying to blame Ted but honestly, I know I can't. It's time to admit to myself that I kissed Ted – both times – because I wanted to. Because I wanted him. I can't avoid the truth anymore: my feelings for Ted run deeper than reluctant friendship. A lot deeper.

Now what am I going to do about it?

I'm saved from this dilemma by Ted saying my name in the kind of gentle tone most people use with mentally ill or very elderly people. I realise I've been staring blankly into my half-finished tea and sit up straight, trying to look intelligent. Ted smiles and continues:

"Mum says that Dad has the car but that he'll be back any minute. I can get you home then."

I frown. "How will you know the way?"

"I don't need to. There's a wizarding outpost about twenty minutes from here, in the South Downs. It's called Kneazleby. I go there to meet up with friends in the holidays. You can floo from there."

I practically melt into my chair with relief.

Serena gives me a thoughtful look. "You won't be staying for dinner, then?"

"Nope!" I say happily, before catching myself. "I mean, um, no thank you."

She nods, looking disappointed, then glances from me to Ted and seems to come to a conclusion.

"Well, I have lots to do, lots of cleaning for when your grandparents arrive, Ted," she says brightly. "Why don't you two chat in here while I get a few things done?"

Ted eyes her suspiciously, but nods slowly. "Sure."

Serena smiles brightly at us before practically skipping out of the room. Ted and I both listen to her pattering up the stairs, then look at each other. Ted pulls a chair out from the table and sits opposite me.

"Sorry about her. She doesn't mean to be so…"

"I think she's nice," I say quickly, and quite truthfully. Ted grins at me.

"Well, she certainly seems to approve of you."

I'm sure he's expecting some sort of sarcastic retort, but I feel a burst of courage and hold his gaze.

"I'm glad," I say quietly. Ted stares back at me.

"You are?"

I nod and shift in my seat, still not entirely sure if I'm making the right decision here. In fact, I know I'm making a rather stupid decision. But I've tried ignoring him and I've tried ignoring myself. Maybe, despite everything, this could work somehow. It would be insanely risky, but if there's anyone in my life worthy of trust it's got to be Ted. What else can I do?

"Ted…" I begin, then stop and stare at my lap. How can I possibly start this conversation? How can I take back months of conflict and childishness?

"Dromeda," he says softly. I look back up at him, feeling my heart pulse in my throat at the seriousness in his voice. He opens his mouth to speak…

… and I hear the front door open, accompanied by a male voice.

"I'm home!"

Ted scowls in the direction of the doorway. I close my eyes for a moment in silent frustration, before rising to my feet. Ted does the same, shooting me an apologetic glance. The front door bangs closed and I hear hurried footsteps on the stairs, followed by Serena's low voice. Ted and I stand in tense silence for a minute of hushed hallway conversation before a tall, broad, slightly round-bellied man in a muggle suit strides in. He looks Scandinavian, with flaxen hair and ice blue eyes. Like some sort of modern Viking. He comes to an abrupt halt as he spots me, eyes sparkling.

"Well," he exclaims. "Ted's actually brought home a girl! And a pretty one, too! Never thought I'd see the day."

I blush and Ted's father chuckles.

"Dad," Ted hisses, but the older man waves his hand airily.

"I'm only joking, son, don't worry yourself. You need the car, do you?"

"Yes, I need to get Dromeda home-"

"Alright then. No funny business though! Just remember, you were conceived in the back of a car."

With a wink, he throws a small set of keys to his son. Snickering to himself, he wheels around and disappears back into the hallway. I clear my throat and glance sideways at Ted, who is scowling at the door again. Shaking his head, he turns to me.

"Sorry. He seems to think he's funny."

"It's fine," I reply, smiling slightly. Ted's parents seem so relaxed and cheerful. It's the total opposite of my home life but in a way, it feels completely comfortable. Sighing, I gesture towards the window.

"I suppose we should be going…" I trail off as it occurs to me that I'm going to be riding in a car. An actual muggle car. I swallow nervously. "Are you sure this car thing is completely safe?"

Ted grins his familiar grin at me and holds out his hand.

"Trust me, Dromeda."

I hesitate, knowing somehow that this is a turning point and a potentially dangerous one. But I can't quite resist the warmth in his eyes as I twine my fingers through his.

"OK."


	15. Chapter 15

_Bit longer than usual and this one has an odd set-up; I've done it as a series of one-shots in chronological order over a couple of months. Dromeda's birthday is around the beginning of February, just to avoid confusion as to where we are at the end of the chapter. No, this is not the last chapter, although it feels like an ending… I actually wrote this after writing the final few chapters, because I realised you guys would be annoyed if I missed out the 'secret dating' part of the story. This is a pitiful attempt to give you that part._

_To the reviewer who suggested Emilia Clarke as Dromeda…. wow, she's pretty much perfect for her. Spot on, thanks! I cannot be bothered to change the cover picture though. Guys, just so you know Dromeda looks like Emilia Clarke with curly hair. In my head, anyway. Now someone find me a Ted! Hehe._

_I don't own the world of Harry Potter and I don't own Emilia Clarke. Or the random girl in my cover picture, actually._

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo _

Just two days into the new school term and little over a week into my twisted romance with Ted… and already I'm wondering how I ever thought this would be workable.

"Ted!" I hiss as my boyfriend – such a stupid term, but I'm certainly not going to refer to him as my suitor – tugs me into an empty classroom. I'm still twisted round to make sure that no one in the crowded corridor outside noticed us, my heart hammering at the thought of being seen hand-in-hand with Ted. I hurriedly cast a locking charm on the door. Oh, Merlin, it would have been a disaster… I thought I'd made it clear to him, in the car on the way to Kneazleby, just how dangerous our relationship is. Does he never listen?

Ted's saying something, but I cut across him as I whirl back around, glaring at him.

"Are you completely incapable of subtlety, then?"

He looks affronted. "Oh, come on, no one's going to notice, it was mayhem out there. Besides, you looked suitably outraged. If anyone saw us they probably think I'm trying to get you to do my Charms homework or something. Speaking of which…"

"Do your own assignments, you're better than me at essays anyway," I say waspishly.

"Really?" Ted grins. I huff and cross my arms. Ted sits down on a desk.

"I just wanted to see you, Dromeda," he says wistfully. "I thought I would have spoken to you by now. I thought the whole point of us getting together was to spend time together."

"Within reason," I reply impatiently. "It's the start of term and I've been busy. Besides, I said hello on the train."

"You made eye contact with me. Once."

"I said hello in my head."

Ted sighs. "Well, I'm sorry if I assumed that our relationship would be slightly more interactive than one-way telepathy."

"Merlin's beard, Ted, it's been five days since we last spoke, not five weeks!"

"Don't pretend you didn't miss me," he teases.

"Of course I didn't," I lie, lifting my nose haughtily. Ted rolls his eyes, stands up and pulls me into a hug, ignoring my muffled protests.

"Alright," he says into my hair. "I'll be ultra-covert from now on. I'll be the James Bond of Hogwarts… sorry, don't ask. But I'll be as careful as I can. OK?"

"OK," I sigh against his chest. I uncross my arms and hug him back, very quickly.

"You're lucky you're worth all the bother," he remarks as he pulls away. Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he picks up his bag and saunters out of the classroom.

"Ditto," I mumble as the door closes.

xxxxx

There are several reasons as to why patrol rounds are better with Ted.

One rather depressing reason is that my other two patrol partners hate me.

Fabian is as withdrawn as ever and I struggle to recall the last time he spoke directly to me. I've been told that he's quite the joker and usually very friendly, but the Prewetts are as Gryffindor as the Blacks are Slytherin and apparently his family are incredibly prejudiced against us Slytherins. I find it irritating that blood traitors like the Prewetts pride themselves on treating muggle-borns as equals but then spit on their fellow purebloods. It's double standards and I don't like it. I seem to remember that their older sister Molly, who graduated Hogwarts in my fourth year and was a prefect, was fairly friendly to all students. Maybe Dumbledore thought that Fabian, who is admittedly quieter and more sensible than his tearaway twin Gideon, would take after his sister in that respect. If so he was sorely mistaken. I also remember that when she graduated Molly was recently engaged, not to one of their beloved muggle-borns but to a thoroughbred pureblood. A Weasley, although the Weasleys are blood traitors just like the Prewetts so maybe that doesn't count.

Fabian isn't nearly as bad as Fletcher, though. The poor boy can barely look at me without snapping some pointed comment or barely-disguised insult. Unlike with Fabian, I can't get annoyed about it because he has a perfect right to hate me. I did break up with him five days into the term without giving any good reason other than 'I feel like we've run our course' and 'I just want to be friends'. He was incensed and seemed unable to understand why I wasn't as desperately in love with him as he'd assumed. Not to mention my bad news came just before even worse news; the Parkinsons were declared bankrupt the very next day. That was two weeks ago and I still haven't dared to say a word during patrol with him, merely nodding meekly at everything he says even if he's plainly trying to offend me.

So on the occasion that I have patrol with Ted, it's met with unadulterated relief that I'll be with someone who actually wants to spend time with me.

The other main reason to look forward to patrol rounds with Ted is being demonstrated excellently as I giggle uncharacteristically into his hair, the sound morphing into a whimper as he does something wonderful with his tongue on my pulse point. One hand is fisted at the nape of his neck but the other is free to roam and, feeling daring, I slip it under his shirt and run my fingers over his warm stomach. Hard muscles clench under my fingers and I smirk in appreciation. Quidditch, along with the long hours spent training for it, really isn't so bad when I think about it.

"Dromeda…" Ted breathes against my clavicle. I frown as I realise that to get to my clavicle, he would have needed to undo some buttons on my blouse. When did he do that? Sneaky git. Shifting against the wall, I gently and reluctantly push him away and smooth my uniform down, promptly doing up my half-open blouse and loosened tie. Ted does no such thing and simply leans against the opposite wall of the alcove we're in, looking rumpled and tempting and smug. I level him with a disapproving glare.

"We need to finish patrol rounds," I say primly. Ted snorts.

"I'm not the one who dragged us behind this suit of armour," he reminds me.

I don't bother responding to that.

xxxxx

Flitwick is still my favourite teacher, but he's odder than ever. He seems overly delighted to see that Ted and I are getting on better during Charms Extension. He constantly sets us little tasks to do between lessons, quiz questions with answers available only from the Restricted Section of the Library, but always seems to forget to give one of us a permission note. This usually means that Ted and I have to share a note and go and hunt down the answer together, which I actually don't mind at all, funnily enough. The Restricted Section is usually deserted and the sofas in the corner, although dusty, are extremely comfortable.

Ted can be annoyingly flirtatious in Extension, though. I'm aware that he's naturally affectionate and that the sneakiness of our relationship doesn't come easily to him. For me, it's no hardship to snub Ted in public because I'm quite private anyway. But I get the impression that if Ted had his way he'd have no compunctions about kissing me right in the middle of the Great Hall.

Despite this, he's proven very good at acting as though we barely know each other in class and during Prefect meetings. He doesn't speak to me at all and I ignore him completely. The only time he ever misbehaved was during Defence, when we were randomly paired to practice nonverbal shield charms. He kept finding random excuses to touch me or lean close to me until I disarmed him rather forcefully… nonverbally, naturally.

Now, though, sitting in Charms Extension with Ted making his third suggestive comment in ten minutes, I'm mentally running through the list of jinxes I can perform subtly enough that our teacher wouldn't notice. Flitwick conjures a blackboard on the wall and raises his voice over the squeaking of his chalk. Sliding my chair closer to Ted's, I glare furiously at him.

"Just because it's only us and Flitwick, does not mean that you can suddenly drop all pretences!" I hiss. Ted rolls his eyes.

"He won't notice," he whispers unconcernedly. "Besides, why should he care?"

"He will notice if you keep looking at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like… I don't know, sort of… oh, just far too familiar."

"Why does it matter? It's only Flitwick."

"If he says something to another teacher it could, conceivably, find its way back to Bella."

"Now you're just being ridiculous…"

"Ted, if she-"

"Am I boring you both?"

Both Ted and I jump and look towards the blackboard, where Flitwick is staring at us, eyes twinkling and whiskery lips twitching. We both blush and answer in unison:

"No, Sir."

xxxxx

It's a quiet night in the common room as I pull another piece of parchment towards me, paying very little attention to Louisa reciting the wrist movements for the spells we're supposed to have mastered in Charms. I know without listening that she'll have gotten half of them wrong.

I concentrate on my Muggle Studies assignment, looking at the alternative technology muggle society uses in place of common kitchen charms. Needless to say, Ted is an immense help with Muggle Studies and gathering my notes and rough sketches for this assignment involved less than half an hour's discussion with him in the library.

I carefully dot in the lines on my toaster diagram showing where the eletrisic flow - or whatever it is - goes. I'm so immersed in my task that I let out a small yelp of surprise as someone suddenly sits down on the sofa next to me. I turn to see who's made me jump.

"Cissy," I say in exasperation. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Cissy ignores me, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder as she looks pointedly at Louisa.

"Could we have a moment, please?" she asks sweetly. Louisa huffs dramatically and flounces across the room to join a group of fifth-year girls. I eye my sister suspiciously.

"Do you want something?" I ask carefully. Cissy fixes me with her ice blue stare.

"Rabastan says he saw you studying with Ted Tonks in the library last night."

I raise my eyebrows, tensing up but trying to appear unaffected.

"So? I have Charms Extension with him and Flitwick sets us difficult assignments. Why shouldn't I use Tonks' research if it gets me better marks?"

"Rab says you were looking rather friendly, laughing at something the mudblood said."

I shift uncomfortably. "Is that a crime? I don't like Tonks but even he's capable of saying something witty. If something's funny, I laugh. It's not a big deal, Cissy."

"But Rab says…" she presses.

"I don't give a flying French kneazle what Lestrange says," I snap. "He's a nasty little creep and he shouldn't be spying on me anyway."

Cissy scowls at me. "I just think you should stay away from Tonks after what happened."

"It's not an issue because it won't happen again. I'm not friends with him. It's not like that."

She shrugs, looking annoyed. "Fine. But people will talk if you get too chummy with the mudblood."

I turn deliberately back to my diagram and after a moment, she gets up and stalks off. I watch her return to Bella, in Rodolphus' lap by the fire, and narrow my eyes as my older sister listens to Cissy and then turns to look at me suspiciously.

I'm being watched. This is not good.

xxxxx

"What do you mean, it's not important?!"

Ted runs a hand through his hair, looking hassled. "No, look, obviously it's an issue but there's not really much we can do about it. Except be more careful."

"Ted, if my family were to find out-"

"I know," he interrupts. "They won't, though."

I jab my wand angrily at the wall as we walk past, leaving a small scorch mark.

"My point is that Bella suspects. Cissy practically knows, or she would if she weren't so naïve."

"Well there's still nothing we can do about that, but on another note-"

"It's only a matter of time, Ted!"

"Maybe, but in the meantime I was thinking that-"

"I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if-"

"Mother of Merlin, Dromeda, I'm trying to ask you something here!" Ted almost shouts. His voice echoes on the empty staircase and I blink at him, startled. He shakes his head wearily and continues:

"I'm trying to ask you out on a date."

"A date?" I repeat incredulously. He nods, beaming.

"A birthday date. It is your birthday next week, isn't it?"

I inhale slowly. "Are you actually serious? How can we be clandestine at a table in Puddifoot's, Ted?"

"Not in Hogsmeade," Ted says, looking annoyed. "This might come as a shock, but I'm not a total idiot. I meant just us. You could sneak out."

He winks at me and I smile despite myself. Perhaps I ought to calm down a little.

"Alright. If I were to sneak out…" I say, playing along. "Where would you take me?"

Unexpectedly Ted stops, bends down and swipes an arm behind my knees, catching me and lifting me easily. I shriek and cling to him as he prances up the deserted corridor, putting on a grand voice.

"Oh, we would go to Paris, wear berets and drink champagne, of course. Then Italy, for wine-tasting and gondolas and more wine and perhaps if we got drunk enough there we would go to Vegas."

"Go to where?" I laugh breathlessly. Ted grins and sets me down, keeping his arms looped around my waist.

"Never mind. On second thoughts, Paris is overrated. So's Italy. I'll have to think of something else."

I shake my head with amusement, deciding that a date might be a nice idea after all.

xxxxx

I saunter casually out of the dormitory, telling Louisa and Danielle, who are still up, that I'm going to do some reading in the common room. They don't appear to notice that I have my cloak over my arm, waving me away as they're busy having a crucial conversation about whether Danielle should sleep with her revolting boyfriend.

Slipping out, I pause halfway down the stairs, fastening my cloak and pulling my hat, gloves and scarf from the pockets. Applying a last-minute spritz of perfume, I take a deep breath and tap my own head with my wand, whispering the incantation and feeling the sliding sensation creep across my body. Hoping fervently that I've performed the charm right, I edge down the stairs and along the wall, holding my breath. The Knights of Walpurgis, including Bella, are in their usual spot by the fire, muttering amongst themselves.

They don't appear to notice the entrance opening by itself and I smile in triumph as I shut it behind me, hurrying up the corridors and the steps leading to the Entrance Hall. Keeping to the edges of the Hall, I cross to the broom cupboard in the corner and tap it with my wand, muttering 'Thursday, dry and cold'. The door shimmers then creaks open and I slip through, lighting my wand. The magically summoned cubicle smells ancient and is tiny, smaller than the broom cupboard which usually occupies this space. I feel claustrophobia creeping up as I search the floor. A circle of marble in the stone gleams at me and I press it with my toes, gasping as a portion of the wall in front of me melts away. Cold night air meets my lower body and I wriggle through the gap feet-first, staggering to my feet; a few seconds more and the stone re-forms behind me. I'm standing in front of the castle, just twenty paces to the right of the entrance doors. I sag in relief that I've actually managed, for the first time in my life, to sneak out of the castle. This feels dangerous but strangely enjoyable. Fun, even.

I jump as a voice at my ear murmurs:

"Your disillusionment's fading. I can make you out in the moonlight."

Relaxing, I turn and peer up at the faint shape of Ted's face.

"So is yours," I reply. Simultaneously, we both raise our wands and tap them on each other's heads, watching as our respective outlines disappear. I blindly reach forward and grab Ted's hand.

He takes me to a little lakeside bay near where Hagrid was training the Giant Squid. Once we're under cover of the copse of trees surrounding the gravelly cove, we each remove our disillusionment charms and I light some bluebell flames in a jar from my pocket. Ted drags a picnic basket from the depths of a bush; I laugh softly as he unfurls a blanket with a flourish. He grins at me.

"Don't get too used to this sort of thing," he teases as he pours me a chipped mug of elderflower wine. I shake my head, smirking, and tell him I wouldn't dare. He raises his own mug, dark eyes soft as he gazes at me.

"Happy birthday, Dromeda. Here's to you."

I lean forward and kiss him gently as I clink my mug with his.

"Here's to us," I whisper against his lips.


	16. Chapter 16

_Ooohhhhh, the plot thickens! Bit of a cliffy for this one but yeah, we're almost done now. I don't mind this chapter… I'm not so confident about the next one but that's a different story. For anyone trying to picture Dromeda's dress, yes it is a muggle-style ball gown rather than robes (not that anyone knows what girls' dress robes actually look like anyway… I imagine sort of dresses with built-in waistcoats and cloaks? Idk…) and it is bronze not gold and it's rather extravagant in my mind. Yes the hairstyle does sound like Belle in BATB, but Dromeda really does look heaps like her except with curlier hair. And yes Siri is adorable and I wish I could have featured him more in the story._

_Not so many reviews for the last chapter… thanks so much to those who did, you're all amazing!_

_I don't own this coz this right here is fanfiction. The clue is in the name of this website._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

The cat-like outline of my own amber-hued eyes stares back at me in something like shock. Cissy's been trilling about 'the big reveal' for the last half an hour, but I waved her off, sceptical as ever. Make-up can't possibly make that much of a difference, I insisted.

Well, apparently it can. If it weren't for my own familiar eyes peering out of it, I would barely recognise the face before me in the full-length mirror. I raise a cautious hand to my hair, piled effortlessly at the crown of my head with a trailing spray of curls clinging to my neck and shoulder. The dark brown emphasises my pale skin, as does the deep bronze of my ridiculously tight gown. I feel like a walking exhibition piece, careful of my own movements lest I damage the illusion.

"Andromeda, you look beautiful."

I spin around, immediately checking my hair again in case the movement disrupted it. Mother is standing in the shadowed doorway, her chin up as she surveys me proudly. I smile at her, but inside I feel dissatisfied. How many times have I imagined this moment, standing in my debut gown with Mother telling me those words? It's perfect, the gown is perfect… everything is bloody perfect. So why do I have to remember to smile?

I take a deep, slightly strained breath and turn back to the mirror, watching as Mother comes to stand behind me.

"Thank you, Mother. It's wonderful. Is it supposed to be this tight, though? I thought corsets were slightly out of fashion nowadays…"

"It's traditional for a debut gown to be in this style and it is important that we uphold traditions. You'll survive it for one night. And you look stunning. Don't you think?"

I bite my overly full, glossy lip. It's true that my reflection is lovely, but I'm not sure if I would call it me. Shaking my head slightly, I tell myself to snap out of it. Tonight is going to be utterly miserable if I don't stop being so mopey.

Cissy glides back in at that moment, her simple deep green dress robes – one of our grandmother's personalised designs - and swept-back golden hair making her look eerily similar to Mother, holding something small and shimmery in her elegant hands.

"Andy, I found it but I still think you should wear one of the family hairpieces… oh, Mother! Mother, the robes are beautiful, thank you."

"You wear them well, Narcissa. The Malfoy boy will be enchanted. Andromeda, what is this?"

Mother is holding up the hair clasp she's just taken from Cissy. It's a burnished golden bronze colour, shaped like a flower and inlaid with slightly misshapen pearls. I gaze at it for a moment, remembering the night of my birthday almost two months ago when Ted snuck me out to that spot by the lake for our 'date', with a bottle of wine pilfered from the kitchens and a picnic of pumpkin pasties and Honeydukes chocolate. I told him at the time that charming a rose to sprout out the ground, open up and reveal the hair clasp inside was the most clichéd thing I'd ever encountered. Secretly I was delighted, of course.

"It's…" I clear my throat whilst Mother looks at me expectantly. "It's mine. I bought it to go with the dress. Can I wear it, please?"

Mother sniffs. "Andromeda, you know we have an abundance of family jewellery for occasions like this."

I stay silent. She sighs and gestures for me to turn around, fixing the clasp to one side of the mound of curls perched on my head. Any further comments Mother might be about to make are interrupted by Tippy poking her tiny head around the door, announcing that Father and Bella are waiting in the hallway downstairs. Smoothing my hands across my embroidered bodice, I follow Mother and Cissy in a procession down the stairs. Bella is wearing black, predictably, showing even more cleavage than me and wearing her tumultuous hair loose down her back, looking like some gothic fantasy. Mother tightens her lips at the blatant sexuality of the outfit but says nothing; Bella and Rodolphus are almost certainly getting engaged tonight so she'll overlook anything. I, on the other hand, am on thin ice. Breaking up with Fletcher less a week into the term almost got me disowned, until the news broke about the Parkinsons' financial situation. Suddenly, I was being congratulated for my intuitive decision and all was forgiven… I'm still not sure if Mother is entirely convinced, though.

We all step outside and line up, Cissy clutching Father's arm and looking uncharacteristically anxious. I smirk, knowing that she hates side-along apparition and feeling smug that I passed my test just last week. Taking a deep breath, I focus on the Malfoy Manor library, screwing my eyes shut against the tightening, twisting sensation of apparating. When I open them again, I'm staring at a huge bookcase and I can hear a chorus of pops as the rest of my family arrives. Turning, I see Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus beaming as they come forward to greet Cissy and Bella. Behind them a small group of newly arrived guests are moving out of the library into the hallway. The library's protective wards have been lifted to allow apparition just for tonight, meaning that it's going to be a busy area until everyone has arrived as well as a meeting point for partners and their families. I move closer to my parents and stamp down on the impossible wish that Ted was here to meet me, reminding myself that I'm going to his house for lunch on Easter Sunday – to meet his parents properly - under the guise of a fictitious prefect's celebration in Hogsmeade. Still… the dress feels like a waste if I'll be walking into the ballroom alone.

"Andromeda?" says a familiar voice from behind me. I whirl around in surprise.

"Thorfinn!" I exclaim. He's smiling and holding out his arm for me to take. I grin at him as I place my hand on his elbow. Thorfinn and I have become friends of sorts, despite the fact that he's not the best conversationalist and I suspect that under his quiet exterior lies a violent streak… he is a Knight of Walpurgis, after all. Still, I find myself approaching him in the common room when there's no one else to talk to. Shameful as it is to admit, it's probably because he bears a superficial resemblance to Ted with his broad-shouldered frame and tousled blonde hair. I'm astonished to see him waiting for me here. Thorfinn would usually be skulking in the corner at a party.

We follow the rest of my family down the grand hallway and through a pair of ornate doors into the huge, bustling ballroom. Colourful islands of people are grouped every few feet, connected by the rapidly moving trays of drinks supported by all-but-invisible house elves. The sweeping ceiling isn't quite as extraordinary as the Hogwarts Great Hall one, but it's still one of the most impressive in the country, enchanted to look like a blue cloudy sky with small jewel-coloured birds darting all over it. I hold my head high as Thorfinn escorts me into the room, trying not to blush as everyone's heads turn at once to watch me enter. I know without looking that the banner above the doors is changing to spell my name. I also know that the young men will be assessing me like I'm meat in a butcher's shop, the mothers will be jealously comparing me to their daughters and everyone in the room will be whispering about whether Thorfinn is courting me. Well, until the next seventeen-year-old girl walks in, anyway.

We cross to one side of the ballroom and join the rest of the Blacks. Poor Aunt Walburga is looking extremely sour; she's always wanted a daughter and instead has two sons, Sirius and Regulus. I have to feel sorry for her as she watches my parents parade towards her with three blossoming young women. To make matters worse, Siri is about as rebellious as a child can get and openly scoffs at the traditions and pureblood values his parents adhere to so religiously. He's only nine but it's obvious to everyone he's going to be in Gryffindor. At least Regulus isn't a disappointment; withdrawn and sulky, he's sure to turn out just like his beloved mother. Even as we approach, I see that Regulus is clinging to Walburga's skirts whilst Uncle Orion is glaring furiously at a bored-looking Sirius. I detach myself from Thorfinn with a grateful smile as we reach my cousins, going to kiss my aunt and uncle. I've barely even said hello to Regulus when something collides with my waist, restricting my already-hampered breathing and making me wheeze.

"Andy!" shouts Sirius happily, beaming up at me through his always-messy fringe of black hair. I chuckle – I've always had a soft spot for my adventurous little cousin - and brush it back from his forehead.

"Hello, Sirius. How are y-"

"You look nice!" he says, sounding surprised as he steps back and surveys me.

"Thank you."

"Sirius, your shirt is untucked," snaps Aunt Walburga, eying her elder son with undisguised distaste. Siri doesn't even look at her, just absentmindedly pushes a corner of his shirt into his trousers. His sharp silver eyes have wandered over to where Thorfinn is talking to Bella and Rodolphus.

"Is that your boyfriend?" he asks, looking simultaneously disgusted and fascinated. I frown at him.

"No," I say at the same time as Walburga says:

"The correct word is 'suitor', don't be so crude."

Sirius and I both roll our eyes in unison as she turns away, then grin at each other. H

The ball continues this way, small pleasant interludes with Sirius and occasionally Louisa – wearing a hideously flouncy orange gown - breaking up the long, boring dances. I see Fletcher across the room at one point; he shoots me a particularly nasty glare to which I respond with what I hope is an apologetic expression. I feel genuinely bad about dumping him so soon after Christmas, but Ted and I agreed that even if our relationship is secret, we must treat it the same as a normal one. Obviously, continuing my semi-romance with Fletcher did not fit in with that agreement.

It's almost two hours into the ball when Thorfinn spins me onto the dance floor for the fifth time. He's been in deep conversation with my father for a good twenty minutes and as we twirl through the crowd of dancers, curiosity and elf-made wine gets the better of me and I ask him what they were discussing. He stares down at me, a strange quirk to his mouth.

"Business arrangements," he says cryptically. I raise my eyebrows.

"Are you going into business with Father, then?"

Thorfinn gives a gruff bark of laughter. "Andromeda, don't be so dense. You know what we were talking about."

"No, I really don't," I say impatiently. Thorfinn spins me around and when he puts me back down, he's holding me uncomfortably close. I lean back slightly even as he bends forward.

"Our marriage," he murmurs in my ear.


	17. Chapter 17

_A New Year's present for you guys! Almost there. I think maybe that this is a more dramatic turn than you guys thought… I just figured that this would have had to have happened sooner rather than later. It's too a big secret to keep. I'm worried that it starts to feel rushed here… I hope not. I've re-edited heaps._

_I'm working on a few other things but they're not as exciting or… well, as good as this fic. I got lucky with these guys. Still, we'll see how we go._

_Hope you like it, and have a supermegafoxyawesomehot New Year!_

_I don't own this and besides, is suing some poor little mediocre writer the right way to start 2013? Hmmm? Think about it._

_oooooooooooooooooooooooo_

I give a small yelp as I wrench backwards.

"Marriage?!" I exclaim, trying to back away but unable to break Thorfinn's hold on my wrist. He scowls at me as he tries to tug me closer.

"Shut up, you stupid girl, it hasn't been announced yet," he hisses. I shake my head wildly, shock turning into panic. Surely an engagement isn't supposed to happen until after I've finished school…

"I can't marry you!" I gasp at him. Thorfinn's expression is thunderous; he yanks on my arm hard enough to leave a bruise but I resist, struggling enough to make the people around us take notice. Couples stop dancing and form a ring around us. Spectator sport.

"Who else are you going to marry, then? You're lucky I'm willing to have you. There's something not right in the head about you, Andromeda, not to mention the rumours about that mudblood prefect, but I'm willing to overlook that. Now for Merlin's sake, stop making such a fuss!"

"NO!" I almost yell, managing to twist away from him at last. I back up as Thorfinn tries to snatch me again. He stops, looking enraged.

"Why not?" he snaps, seemingly unaware that everyone around us is watching in mingled horror and glee.

"Because I don't love you!" I say helplessly, knowing even as I say it that it's a pointless argument; what does love have to do with anything? Thorfinn manages to grab hold of me again and I resume my struggling, anger beginning to build inside me at his aggression.

"And who exactly do think would love you?" he snarls in my face. Hot fury flashes through me.

"Ted does!" I fling back at him without thinking. We both freeze for a long moment before he drops my arm as though it's diseased.

"So it's true," he whispers, disgust twisting his face. The murmuring surrounding us is growing louder. I look around wildly, trying to breathe normally with little success. My darting eyes catch on Cissy's wide blue gaze; she's frozen in the gathering crowd, clutching Malfoy's arm, distress and revulsion marring her pretty features. My stomach overturns at her expression. The surreal, automatic feeling that I'm having a nightmare begins to recede and I'm struck with the knowledge that at this very moment, someone is hurrying to relay my little scene with Thorfinn to my parents. I have mere seconds before all hell breaks loose.

Panic overtakes me and I stumble forward, pushing through the crowd and making it into the hallway. I glance back to see Bella storming through the guests, wand drawn and expression murderous. I'm suddenly certain that if she catches up with me the best I can hope for – from my own sister – is _Crucio_. I begin to run, hauling up my skirts to keep from tripping. I find myself hurtling back through the library doors, slamming them shut and flinging a complex locking charm at them. Pressing my clenched fists to my mouth, I screw my eyes shut just as the doors begin to shake from a barrage of curses, willing myself to be somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere where things are still alright…

When I next open my eyes I'm standing in front of a shockingly average muggle house. It looms up out of the darkness, with bland brickwork and clumps of early daffodils under the ground-floor windows. The upper left window is slightly open; soft yellow light and the gentle plucking sound of a guitar spill out into the cool, dark night. I let out a shuddering breath.

"Ted," I mumble, surprised to hear my own voice blurred by tears. Reaching up I feel them streaking across my face too, growing cold in the chilly night air. My make-up will be ruined, not to mention the tresses straggling down from my elegant hairstyle and the wet grass staining the heavy hem of my dress. Squelching forward, I stand directly beneath the window and raise my wand… only to remember that Ted is still sixteen for another five weeks. If I perform magic in a muggle neighbourhood, outside his house, the Ministry will blame him for it. Closing my eyes and cursing with frustration, I cast around and my gaze falls upon the gravel path next to me. Scooping up a handful, I take aim and toss it at the window above, wincing and cringing when it rattles loudly in the quietness of the night, some of it raining back down on me. The guitar cuts off abruptly and a second later, the window is pushed open and Ted's familiar blonde head pokes out.

"Who-" he begins in a hushed tone, looking perplexed. Then he spots me and he shuts his mouth, eyes widening as he takes me in.

"Dromeda," he says in a slightly choked-sounding voice. "You… you look incredible… I… what are you doing here? Are you OK?"

I open my mouth and then close it, shaking my head as the tears gather in my eyes again. I dash them away impatiently. Ted's face changes instantly.

"I'll let you in," he whispers before withdrawing his head. I drift over to the front door, crossing my arms tightly. I'm beginning to tremble. I shake my head slowly from side to side, lips shut tight, the panic creeping up again at the thought of what I've ruined.

It seems to take eons but in reality it must be about thirty seconds before I hear a key turning in the lock of the door. It opens and before I can offer an explanation Ted is pulling me gently inside, wordlessly enveloping me in his arms. We stand in the doorway for a few moments, me screwing my face up against both the soft material of his jumper and the sob rising in my throat. I take a deep breath and pull away, meeting Ted's concerned eyes in the gloom of his front hallway. He shuts and locks the door, shooting me worried glances as he gestures toward the stairs. He follows me up and I tiptoe into his bedroom; at least I assume it's his bedroom as the door is wide open and I can see a guitar lying on the bed. Sinking down onto the bed next to it, I sit numbly as Ted carefully clicks the door closed. He turns and scrutinises me, then walks over to a large ugly box on the desk across the room, fiddling with some buttons and knobs on it. My stomach twists a little at the notion that I've upset him.

"Ted, I'm sorry…" I whisper, not knowing what else to say about turning up in tears at his house, at the beginning of the Easter holidays, at gone ten o'clock at night. He shakes his head.

"Don't you dare."

As he speaks, a faint whirring sound from the box transforms into soft, lilting music. It must be some kind of gramophone. Ted turns and walks over to the bed.

"My parents are less likely to come investigate if they hear music, as opposed to me talking to a girl," he smiles slightly as he sits next to me. I give a weak smile in return before staring down at my lap where my hands are clasped. Slowly, almost cautiously, Ted reaches over and pulls one of my hands away, wrapping both of his around it.

"Dromeda," he says, his voice anxious. "Please tell me what's happened."

I sigh, not knowing where to begin or how to sum up what a huge mistake I've made. Ted squeezes my hand in encouragement.

"I was at the Malfoy Ball…" I say, croaking slightly. I clear my throat and my voice gets stronger.

"I was dancing with Thorfinn Rowle. He asked… no, he informed me that he and I were betrothed. To be married. Next year, I think."

Ted's steady breathing catches and his grip tightens almost painfully on my hand. I raise my free one to unsteadily push a stray ringlet behind my ear.

"So - so you're…?" he whispers.

"I said no. I told him I couldn't marry him."

He exhales slowly and his body relaxes next to mine. He rubs his thumb in soothing circles over the back of my hand.

"And he was upset. Dromeda, I'm sure Rowle and your father will get over-"

"That's not the worst part," I interrupt, looking up at him with my eyes stinging and my voice unsteady. Ted lapses into silence, frowning at me to continue. I take a deep breath.

"I told him about you. Us. Well, I mentioned you, but he guessed. There was a whole crowd of people around us, Ted, the whole ball knew within seconds, Cissy was there and Bella… Bella chased me out. She was going to curse me, really curse me, I don't think Father could have stopped her and I can't go back, Ted, I can't go back and change it…"

I press a shaking fist to my mouth to stop the words coming out, tears streaming from my eyes. Ted pulls me into him, my face against his shoulder, stroking my hair. I'm not sure how long I cry into his jumper for but it seems like a long time later when I'm finally still and quiet in his arms. Exhaustion begins to take over, forcing a sort of calmness on me and I pull back blearily, eyes aching.

"I'm so sorry," Ted mutters, running a hand through his hair. I glance up in weary surprise to find him watching me with a pained expression.

"What for?"

"This whole situation is my fault. If it weren't for me you'd be with your family right now and I hardly think I'm worth it."

"I'd be marrying Thorfinn straight after I sit my final NEWT, is what you mean," I retort. "And you are absolutely worth it."

I inject more confidence than I feel into my voice, hating to hear Ted talk about himself that way. It stings to hear my own lingering doubts coming out of his mouth. He smiles faintly at my bravado, his eyes warm.

"I don't deserve you."

"I know."

He chuckles. "Right, bedtime, you must be tired as hell and we can talk in the morning. You can have the bed; I'll grab some cushions from downstairs."

I nod gratefully, suddenly wanting nothing more than to sink into the oblivion of sleep. Ted's gaze flickers across my gown, doubly resplendent in his small, plain room.

"Did you want to borrow some of my sister's old pyjamas? As beautiful as you are in that dress, it doesn't look very comfortable…"

"I think I may have a few cracked ribs," I smile. I'm amazed to find myself joking around in the same hour that I've stuffed up almost every aspect of my life. Apparently Ted's capacity to cheer me up stretches to even the direst of situations. On impulse, I lean forward and press a heartfelt kiss to his lips. His hand automatically comes up to brush over my hair and neck, thumb grazing my cheek. I linger a few seconds longer than I intended, savouring the escapism as I melt into him. His familiar smell wafts over me like warm air as I reluctantly pull away.

"Thank you," I tell him. He shrugs, looking embarrassed. I let him pull me to my feet and I sway slightly, gazing at the Hufflepuff flag pinned above the bed as he darts out of the room. Holly, Ted's ever-sleepy barn owl that he bought with his Christmas money, stares at me through lidded eyes from her perch next to the window. I jump slightly as Ted appears back in front of me, proffering a small pile of folded material.

"There's a flannel there too, if you wanted to wash your face. The bathroom's just across the hall."

When I return from the bathroom Ted's sitting cross-legged on a row of lumpy-looking cushions next to the bed, a vile pink sleeping bag scrunched up next to him and his guitar balanced across his lap. He flashes a grin at me as I climb onto the bed and pull the duvet up around myself, listening to the gentle tune he's playing. I recognise it as the same song that was playing on the gramophone-thing earlier.

"It's the Beatles," he tells me without looking up from his fingers. "Their new album is really good."

I murmur an acknowledgement, having no idea what he's talking about as usual but happy to listen to the guitar strum. Closing my eyes, I will myself into a dreamless sleep, not wanting to think about anything at all until tomorrow.


	18. Chapter 18

_Rightio! This was going to be the last chapter but I changed my mind and decided I wanted an epilogue. So you're getting an epilogue after this. Yay! _

_I forgot to put it in the last chapter's A/N but the song Ted plays is 'Here comes the Sun', from the album Abbey Road… which places us in early 1970, just a couple of months before the next album comes out. The Beatles released an album a year, or more… quality AND quantity. I love that song and it's the kind of tune that would make me feel better if I was crying about my public disgrace._

_If you're loving Tedromeda and want a better fic than this one, there are many but I just read an excellent one on here called 'How the Badger Courts the Snake'. You're welcome!_

_It would be a bit bloody rich to sue me now, when I'm so close to finishing… I'll disclaim anyway. *dalek voice* DISCLAAAIIIM._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooo _

When I awaken it takes me a few terrible seconds to recall why I'm not in my own bed. The only thing that keeps me from utter misery is that I'm in Ted's bed. The situation would be unimaginably worse, I remind myself, if I didn't have Ted. I dismiss the snide thought that if it weren't for Ted there wouldn't be a situation. Rolling over, I press my face into his pillow and inhale, freezing when I hear a throaty chuckle.

"You're rather sweet in the mornings."

Lifting my head, I gaze at Ted where he's stretched out on the floor in his ridiculous sleeping bag, resting back on his elbows and smiling sleepily at me. I run my eyes over his wildly tousled golden hair and the faint morning shadow on his jaw. Valiantly, I stop before I can study his close-fitting t-shirt too thoroughly.

"So are you," I reply before dropping my face back to the pillow.

Ted deals with his parents, leaving me cowering in his room until he pops his head in with a smirk.

"You can come down. It's safe."

I scowl at his teasing tone but hover close behind him as he leads me down the stairs, into the kitchen where his parents sit at the table with identical orange mugs and concerned expressions.

"Mr and Mrs Tonks, I'm so sorry-" I begin in a shaky voice. Serena cuts across me.

"It's fine, sweetheart, Ted told us that you had nowhere else to go. I'm glad you had us to come to!"

I smile gratefully at her. "Thank you."

"But Andromeda," she continues carefully, "I really think you ought to try and reconcile with your family as soon as possible. You're welcome to stay longer, the whole holidays if you need to, but these things only get worse…"

I hastily agree and thank them profusely over my own cup of tea, quietly produced by Ted. It's somehow decided that I should apparate home and talk with my parents that very afternoon, despite my deep certainty that no amount of talking will reconcile my family to my relationship with Ted.

Ted's older sister, Maggie, seems to have left an entire wardrobe of clothes behind in the Tonks' spare bedroom despite having a house of her own with her husband. I push down the slight nausea I feel at the thought of confronting my family as I pull out a long, floaty dark purple skirt and a colourful short-sleeved shirt, puzzled at the strangeness of the clothing but too numb with fear to bother about it much. Ted's apologising next to me, saying something about Maggie being 'a hippy like Mum', but I wave him off as I traipse back into the bathroom to get changed. More mascara has smudged around my eyes and I almost want to laugh at what a mess I am, in circus clothes and leftover make-up. Wiping it off as best as I can and cursing the fact that I can't use my wand near Ted, I pull my tangled hair into a bun and secure it with the grips I took out last night. I'm trying to be as positive as possible so I offer Ted a bright smile as helps me with my coat – black, thankfully - and leads me out of the house, on the way to his portkey clearing in the woods behind the playground so I can disapparate safely. He doesn't look convinced and I can feel the worry emanating from him when he hugs me goodbye.

I stumble slightly as I apparate in front of my family's front gates. Tapping them with my wand, I pass through them and trudge up the short gravel driveway to the house. The gates would have triggered the alarm in the kitchen; the house-elves must know I'm here and they have orders to inform my parents of such things. My heart stutters as I see the front door creak open but it's only Tippy. She beckons me, looking urgent and I hurry forward.

"Mistress says Miss Andromeda is to come with Tippy directly to the back room!" she squeaks. I open my mouth to reply but she's already seized my wrist and disapparated us both with a loud crack. Blinking, I find myself standing in our dusty 'back room', a disused extra parlour next to the downstairs bathroom in which the house-elves sometimes sleep and we store surplus furniture. I'm staring directly into my mother's icy blue eyes, almost exactly level with mine. There's a short silence before I find my voice.

"M- Mother…" I stammer but she cuts across me.

"You're not welcome in this house anymore. Your father is beyond furious. He's got Bellatrix under control but if he finds you here, he'll throw you out immediately."

I recoil as though she's hexed me, staggering backwards slightly. My breath feels as restricted as it ever did in the corset and I try to say something, but my mind fails me. Mother's face is grim and I notice that she's wringing her hands with stiff, jerky movements.

"I, too, am angered and humiliated by your… transgression," she continues. "But I have tried to persuade him that he is being too harsh. I have tried to gain you a second chance."

"You have?" I say hopefully. Mother nods and a hint of sadness creeps onto her face.

"It won't happen, Andromeda. Not only have you betrayed us but you admitted it publicly. At the Malfoy Ball! Can you imagine what people are saying? What we will have to endure because of this? If you had kept your secret, if you had allowed your father to intervene… your sisters voiced their concerns about the mudblood boy and so your father acted quickly, securing you a good match in Thorfinn Rowle before the situation could escalate. But you've thrown it back in his face and now…"

I shake my head as she trails off. More tears are gathering in my eyes. Didn't I cry enough of those last night?

"Where will I go?" I mumble brokenly. Mother sighs and turns to the table next to her. She picks up an ornate silver key and holds it out to me. As I take it, she catches and keeps my hand in both of hers.

"This is for your personal Gringotts account. We set it up when you were born, at a time when our financial future wasn't as secure as it is now. There isn't much in there but it earns high interest, and if I can I'll pay some more into it soon. I think your father has forgotten about it."

"I… thank you…" I mutter, slightly bewildered by the way Mother is clutching my hand. I meet her eyes and I'm shocked to see them as full as my own. Hers, however, burn with a terrible mixture of pain, anger and frustration.

"How could you be so selfish?" she whispers, a single tear escaping down her pale cheek. It's the first time I've seen her cry, or even come close. I lower my gaze again, aching as the full realisation of what's happening pushes against me. This is goodbye.

"I'm sorry," I say in a choked voice. Mother drops my hand.

"So am I."

She pauses, takes a deep breath and then continues in a flat voice. "Tippy has your trunk with everything in it. She'll take you to the gate. I advise you to leave quickly. When you get back to Hogwarts next term, do not tell anyone of this exchange and please, do not approach Bellatrix. I have written to Professor Dumbledore for him to keep a close eye on her and I have warned her of that fact. Your father has also made it clear that she is to keep her distance and her temper. We want no more shame on this family than has already been inflicted."

"What… what about Narcissa?" I croak, feeling faint with horror at what I'm hearing. Mother gives a disbelieving, humourless bark of laughter.

"You can try, but I doubt she wants anything to do with you. I would prefer that you do not approach her publicly… you'll only embarrass her."

I inhale sharply, clenching my fists.

"I need to go," I force out, sounding slightly choked. If I'm going to break down, it will not be here. Mother nods and gestures behind me. I spin around to see Tippy waiting by the door, one hand wrapped around the handle of my trunk and the other extended towards me. My tawny owl, Jaffa, is huddled in her cage on top of the trunk. Lurching forward, I grab the handle of the cage and Tippy's small fingers at the same time. I twist back towards my mother, standing taut and lonely in the centre of the room, her elegant face expressionless.

"Goodbye," I say, my breathing shaky and painful. She just stares at me. I turn back towards Tippy.

"Please, let's just go," I beg. Tippy looks hesitantly towards my mother and I snap.

"Tippy, we need to LEAVE!" I scream at her. She jumps and the crack echoes in my ears as we disapparate. She shoots me one sad glance at the gates before disapparating again, leaving me to tap the gates with my wand and drag my trunk through. Choking on sobs, I clutch it tightly as I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and twist into oblivion.

As soon as the flattening sensation stops I hear Ted's exclamation of relief, quickly turning to noises of dismay as he realises that I'm crying… again. Briefly opening my eyes to shove Jaffa back on top of the trunk, I screw them up again and collapse onto Ted, burying my face in his chest. He heaves a deep sigh and wraps his arms around me as I snuffle and hiccup into his coat.

"I guess it didn't go well, then?" he says sadly. I shake my head emphatically. He kisses my hair. "You don't think you'll be able to go back anytime soon?"

"Oh, Ted…" I pull back and meet his eyes, my own aching and stinging. "Ted, I've been disowned… I can't go back at all."

My voice cracks and I drop my forehead back against him before I can see his reaction. We just stand in mutual silence for a while – apart from my sniffling - before he speaks again, and when he does his voice is calm and sure.

"Let's go home."

I look up in disbelief. He might be optimistic, but this is pushing it even for him. He must have misheard me when I told him how my life has just fallen apart. My voice is high-pitched with stress when I reply.

"Just like that? Where am I going to live, Ted? What the hell am I going to do?"

He raises his eyebrows as though it's obvious. "You'll live with us."

"Your parents aren't about to just let me move in, they don't even know me!"

"They know how much you mean to me."

"But…" I gape at him. He looks utterly serene and completely assured that his parents are going to take me in like a stray kneazle. They've met me all of twice, both times in the knowledge that I didn't want to be there. All they know about me is that I'm a schoolgirl with a dangerous, powerful, intensely bigoted family and no experience of the muggle world. I've never even met Ted's sister. I shake my head, knowing it's hopeless. But Ted doesn't seem to grasp the concept of hopeless.

"Trust me, Dromeda," he smiles, radiating confidence. I stare at him, unsure of what to say. Do I tell him that he's mad? Do I tell him that I love him? How am I supposed to respond to such a leap of faith?

I swallow, knowing that this time Ted's asking me to trust him completely, with everything. That's not so difficult; I do trust him. I know that he's important to me and I'm not sure if I could give him up, even if it meant being welcomed back into my old life. Still, I never envisaged being with him beyond school. I always assumed – hoped – that my feelings for him would fade away with time, and that by the time marriage was on the table I would be free of him. But perhaps that was never going to happen. What choice do I have now, anyway? He's all I've got.

Slowly, after a long moment, I exhale and nod.

"Let's go home, Ted."


	19. Epilogue

_SO. Here we are. It says epilogue but this is almost full-length… oops. Hopefully it's not too rubbish an ending and gives everyone some closure… I tried to make it sweet without being REALLY fluffy. Hehe Fluffy._

_OK, I may have gotten only one review on the last chapter but I deserve it coz I've never paid enough attention to my reviewers and I'm sorry. So here are some looooonnggg overdue thank-yous. _

_Let's start with Irony: you deserve a big, shiny reviewing extraordinaire award for your dedication and generosity. LOVELOVELOVE. Violet, you've been around – and wonderful, I might add - since the beginning and I can't express how much that means. It's been about a year, I think, which is bonkers. Other special shout-outs go to Mockingfire, Twinny and Lucy. I hope you guys are all still reading this. _

_And of course, ALL the fantabulous people who have reviewed, you have my deep gratitude and I just really hope it was worth your time, tbh. I loved writing this, so it was definitely worth mine._

_One last time, all together now: PLEASE DON'T SUE ME._

_oooooooooooooooooooooo_

Professor Larch's deep voice booms out across the tense silence.

"Quills down!"

I let my quill drop sideways out of my throbbing, blackened fingers and huff out a breath as I lean back in my chair, stretching my aching spine. There it is. My NEWTs are officially finished and my education is officially over. I smile in triumph as the thick sheaf of parchment on my desk shuffles itself into piles and zooms toward the front of the Great Hall, where Larch stands with his wand held imperiously aloft. Everyone is letting out small laughs or sighs, and I can hear the sound of whispering start up towards the back. Larch snaps at us to stay quiet until he tells us we can go, waits a moment to make sure everyone is silent, and then graciously tells us we can go.

I stand and gather up my writing equipment, carefully screwing the lids back onto the inkpots and wiping the quills on the spare parchment. People are surging past me, impatient to get out into the sunshine, down into Hogsmeade for the traditional seventh-year celebration at the Three Broomsticks. Drinks will be half-price for us NEWT students.

As I turn to leave, though, I see that not everyone is heading towards the doors. One person is pushing through the throng towards me, a huge grin stretching his face. My own face echoes his as he reaches me and I let out a squeak as he lifts me off my feet in a hug, my arms still full of quills and inkpots.

"Ted! For Circe's sake, put me down!"

Ted sets me back on my feet, his grin unchanged.

"We're finished! All done. Doesn't it feel great?"

"It does," I laugh. "Come on, let's go."

I lead the way out of the Hall, Ted chattering enthusiastically beside me about the various questions in the exam. It was Transfiguration theory but I found it quite easy and I tell him so, earning myself an eye-roll and a muttered response. Our bags are where we left them, stacked outside in the Entrance Hall. We push through the crowd to reach them and for a moment, I find myself face to face with Perpetua Nott. She gives me a filthy look but doesn't even acknowledge Ted next to me. I sigh as she sweeps past me and I grab my bag, wishing that Perpetua were more like her twin sister.

I spend most of my time with Ted or, if he's busy, hiding on my bed. The dorm would be a pleasant refuge for me if it weren't for Perpetua. Louisa stills talks to me when no one else is around, Danielle ignores me but isn't hostile and the other girl, a loudmouthed loner named Helen, seems if anything friendlier to me since my 'transgression'; but Perpetua appears endlessly resentful of my presence in the dorm, even after a year, and it's exhausting.

I follow Ted out the doors into the balmy summer air and we're joined by two of his expansive network of friends, a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor both from our year, who laugh a lot and make crude comments when they think I'm not listening. Although polite, none of Ted's friends ever seem to have warmed to me – the social refugee - and generally they don't talk to me much, nodding their heads in acknowledgement if they catch my eye and always greeting me with a cool smile. Only one of them, a shy Hufflepuff by the name of Michael, has ever properly tried to engage me in conversation. I get the impression that Ted is basically his only friend, but I don't know why; he seems sweet.

The distant attitude of Ted's circle of friends only serves to emphasise Ted's commitment to me, though. He seems utterly unbothered by how little time he now spends with them and half the time, I have to nag him into leaving me on my own and going back to his common room. I want to be annoyed by this – Merlin knows I'm not clingy – but no matter what, I can't seem to get tired of Ted and our relationship is starting to take on a decidedly permanent, settled air. It's almost as though we're-

"Andromeda?"

"Hmm?" I look up to find Ursus, Ted's Hufflepuff friend who joined us outside the castle, peering at me. He's actually related to the Black family through some distant, disowned cousin – hence his relic of a name - and is borderline chummy with me at times.

"I said, you want to come down the Broomsticks, don't you?"

He gives me an encouraging smile and I raise my eyebrows.

"I don't see why not… Ted?"

I turn to Ted. I might boss him around in private but I always defer to him in front of his friends, careful not to give them any more reason to resent me. He shrugs, looking at me sideways through his fringe.

"I thought you might want to get some air for a while," he hints. I smile at him and turn back to Ursus.

"He knows me too well," I joke, trying as always to be as friendly as possible. "You don't mind, do you? We'll catch you up later."

Ursus looks disappointed but shrugs and walks off down the lawn with his Gryffindor friend, shooting Ted an annoyed glance as he goes. I turn back to my boyfriend – it still seems like an inadequate word – and take his hand. It took me a while to be comfortable with public affection, but eventually I realised that most of my house would shun me with or without hand-holding.

"What's this about?" I ask him, tugging him off of the path towards the lake. "Why don't you want to go down to Hogsmeade? Drinks are half-price…"

"I know," he laughs. "Trust me, we'll join the boys and take advantage of that soon. I wanted to spend time with you first."

I snort, not bothering to reply. Ted chuckles again.

"Unless you're sick of the sight of me?" he teases.

"I am," I reply. "But that's OK… I don't have to look at you."

We come to a halt near the lake's shore and he moves behind me, sliding his hands around my waist and linking his fingers in front. His breath is gentle against my temple and I lean back into him, basking in the combined warmth of his body and the bright sun.

"This better then?" he asks, voice still amused.

"Much," I sigh. We're silent for a while, contemplating the undulating sunlight on the water and the ancient castle on the adjacent shore, looming up in familiar majesty. I get a slight lump in my throat suddenly, just looking at it. Ted echoes my thoughts, as is his habit over the past year.

"I'm going to miss it."

I make a non-committal noise and stare at the ground. I wish that I could miss Hogwarts as much as him, but the truth is that for over a year now, it's been a sort of prison, littered with people who despise me. That last term with Bella was hell and I spent all my time in either the library or distant corners of the grounds with Ted, creeping through the common room before the end of dinner and cowering on my bed in the evenings, skipping breakfast to avoid her and cringing if I saw her in the corridors. The situation only improved slightly once she was gone, as Narcissa proved as cold as Mother predicted. The old castle holds some of my bleakest memories, as well as some of my happiest ones. I'll be sad to see it behind me, but relieved too. Shaking off my melancholy, I turn in Ted's arms and curl my hands over his heart.

"What now, then?" I ask him quietly. He gazes back at me, light dancing in his brown eyes.

"We go home, first of all, and endure whatever congratulations party Mum and Dad throw for us. Maggie will make the cake, which'll mean food poisoning unless we're careful…"

I grin and punch him in the arm.

"She's not that bad. She taught me to make that cottages pie thing and that turned out alright, didn't it?"

"Cottage," he corrects. "And you used a spell to prevent burning. Not to mention chopping the vegetables and cooking the mince."

I shrug unapologetically. "Maggie likes magic."

Ted smirks. "She does. She's so jealous of us. Lucky she likes you."

"Yes. You, on the other hand…"

"My sister adores me!" Ted says in mock outrage. "You watch; her first-born will be called Ted, boy or girl."

"Ted, no one in their right mind would name a child after you."

"Yes they would!"

"Well," I sniff. "No child I raise shall have a name as utterly muggle as 'Ted', so you can count that out right away."

He smiles and opens his mouth to reply, but falters and seems to think better of it. An uncomfortable pause develops and I lower my eyes to my hands, still resting on his chest. Why must I always say things that imply more than I mean?

"Dromeda," says Ted seriously after a moment. "You asked what we're going to do now. Well, what do you want to do?"

I sigh, not knowing what to say. I decide to just be honest. Ted won't react badly to anything I say… I hope.

"I love your parents," I begin carefully. "They've been my family when no one else would and they've been so kind and patient with me. But… I want our own space."

I peek up at him. He's frowning at me.

"You're saying you want to move out?"

I nod slowly, feeling nervous. Ted snorts, surprising me.

"Well, yeah, Dromeda. Obviously we're going to move out. I thought you were…. Well. Never mind… we'll have to start looking soon, beat the rush. I don't think we'll be able to afford Diagon…"

I breathe a sigh of relief as he babbles on. I keep forgetting how different we are. To me, living together without being at least engaged is quite the scandal and not something I'd normally suggest. But the lure of living alone with Ted, having our own special place just for being us, our own bedroom rather than having to sneak into each other's under his parents' noses, our own independence… it would be wonderful.

"… and we'll have to get jobs," Ted finishes, trailing off as he considers the practicalities of leaving home. I scowl at him.

"What sort of jobs?"

"Horrible, low-paid ones, in shops and things," he says cheerfully. "At least until we get qualifications. Or promoted."

I consider it. We both want to do the same course at a London College, in Applied Charms. To cover both the tuition costs and the cost of living… he's right. We'll both need jobs. Ted laughs at my downcast expression.

"You'll make a lovely shop assistant," he teases.

"I could get bar work," I shoot back at him, smirking. "Lots of money in tips. I'd have to invest in a new wardrobe, I'll need all the cleavage I can get…"

It's Ted's turn to scowl and he does a marvellous job, glowering heavily at me.

"Or not," he snaps.

I smile serenely at him as I step back, linking my fingers through his.

"Come on," I say happily. "Let's go to Hogsmeade. I can get some pointers off of Lorita."

Ted's grumbling to himself all the way back up to the deserted path but I only chuckle at his sulking. Bar work doesn't sound so bad when I think about it. Nothing does, really; not when I'll be coming home to Ted afterwards.

I tug off my Slytherin tie as we stroll down the lane towards the school gates, pushing it into the pocket of my skirt. Ted squeezes my hand and I beam up at him, his face lit by the sparkling sun and framed by the bluest of blue skies.

It's a beautiful way to begin.

FIN.


End file.
